


Go Back to Being Friends

by mysid



Series: Lovers for Tonight [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coming Out, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-08-31 13:08:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8579737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysid/pseuds/mysid
Summary: “What do you want me to say, James? Do you want me to say that I’m in love with him? I won’t. I can’t. I have no right to screw up our friendship by falling in love with Sirius.”After becoming lovers, can Remus and Sirius go back to being friends?





	1. The Ski Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chronologically, this is the second story in the _Lovers for Tonight_ series, but the first story I wrote in the series.
> 
> I’ve read many, many stories about Remus and Sirius’s “first time,” and if James doesn’t know about them by the end of the story, I wonder about the conversation in which Sirius tells James. This story evolved out of such an imagined conversation. So—this story presupposes that Remus and Sirius have become lovers in the physical sense, but that they haven’t said that they are “in love.” Many stories fit the bill nicely, but CLS’s _Fallen (Alternate Version)_ was the original inspiration.
> 
> St. John is pronounced “Sinjin,” hence St. John Wildsmith’s nickname.
> 
> This story begins in the early months of 1979, after MWPP have graduated, but before James and Lily marry.
> 
> I wrote this back in 2003, so it is canon compliant as known to that point. (Sirius will not be killed by drapery!)
> 
> The title comes from the song “Say Goodbye” by Dave Matthews—“Lovers for a night, lovers for tonight, tomorrow go back to being friends.”

Chapter One: The Ski Trip

Sunday Evening

Peter unlocked the door of the flat occupying the ground floor of the small chalet in the Swiss Alps and entered the flagstone entryway, followed by his friends. James stamped his boots against the flagstones and brushed a few flakes of snow off his clothes before moving farther into the room and onto the carpet.

“Here we are, our home for the week,” Peter announced with a smile. “And it looks like we’ll have new powder for our first day of skiing too.”

Remus dropped his duffle bag on the floor in front of the sofa as he looked around. “Very nice, Peter. It’s really generous of your brother to let us use the place this week.”

Sirius dropped his bag next to Remus’s and began examining the small kitchen along one wall. “This is Simon’s? I thought your brother was too stingy to buy a vacation home this nice.”

“Well, he bought the chalet with a few friends. Tarquin and Dido Marsh have the flat above, and Simon shares this flat with St. John Wildsmith.”

Sirius turned back with a grin. “Does he now? I always wondered about Simon and Sin.” He waggled his eyebrows knowingly. “They make a cute couple.”

Peter frowned. “Don’t be disgusting, Sirius.”

“Note to self,” Sirius said as he wrote in the air with an imaginary quill. “‘The love that dares not speak its name’ makes Peter uncomfortable. Poor Simon, stuck with an unsupportive family. Might stay in the closet for years.”

James decided to intervene before Sirius could annoy Peter any further. After all, you couldn’t count on Sirius to know how far was too far. “Why don’t we put away our things and go get something to eat. I’m starving.”

“Right,” Peter said as he turned his back on Sirius and looked at James. “We have two bedrooms, there and there, both about the same size, so two of us in each I’d say. Who wants to go where?”

“Want to be my roommate, Remus?” Sirius immediately asked. 

James smiled to himself at this. Sirius had often complained about Peter’s snoring at Hogwarts, but Sirius could be just as bad at times. _“Remus and I should really force the two snorers together.”_

Remus slightly cocked his head as he looked at Sirius and considered. “All right,” he replied after just a moment’s thought.

“Don’t do it, Remus,” James warned him. “Whoever gets stuck with Sirius might end up sleeping on the sofa because Sirius brings pretty girls home for the night. We could draw straws and short straw gets stuck with the dog in heat.”

Remus smiled just slightly. “I’ll take a chance. I don’t mind the sofa.”

“Don’t listen to him, Moony; you _won’t_ be on the sofa,” Sirius threw a dirty look at James. “I do bring home occasional overnight guests to our flat,”— James snorted at the word “occasional,”— “but no more than Lily spends the night in Prongs’s bedroom.”

“We’re engaged!”

“In fact,” Sirius continued on, raising his wand hand to make a vow, “I, Sirius Black, do hereby promise Remus Lupin that if he will be my roommate this week, I will not bring home any pretty girls, or pretty boys,” he smirked at Peter during that comment, “but if Remus brings anyone home, I will cheerfully sleep on the sofa.”

Remus shook his head with a slight smile. “No promises necessary, Padfoot. I already said, ‘Yes’.”

 

Thursday Morning

“Are you sure you don’t want to ski with me this morning, James?” Peter asked as he and Remus pulled on hats and gloves. “After last night, who knows how late Sirius will sleep.”

“No thanks,” James replied as he poured a second mug of tea. “Have a go on those difficult runs that would probably kill me. Sirius and I will meet you two at the lodge for lunch after Remus’s lesson. We can all take a few runs together after lunch. Can’t wait to see how much better you’ll be today, Moony.”

“You have more faith in me than I do,” Remus laughed. “Bye, James.”

“Bye.”

James settled onto the sofa with his mug and the latest copy of _Quidditch Monthly_. No, he didn’t mind a morning off from skiing. Three days of using muscles he wasn’t used to using had left him just a bit sore and achy. After reading the cover story and two smaller articles, James threw the magazine down in boredom. _“Time to wake up, Sirius. Staying up late playing drinking games only buys you so much sleeping-in time.”_

James did give Sirius some credit. Three nights in a row they had gone out, three nights of flirting and being flirted with. So far, he had kept his promise. He had not brought anyone home, and no one had slept on the sofa. But that did not mean James couldn’t torment a hungover Sirius. James twirled his wand in his fingers as he thought how best to torment Sirius awake. Large, fluffy, white flakes floating slowly down past the windows caught his eye, and he smiled. Sixth year, he had learned a variation of the enchantment on the ceiling of the Great Hall. This variation didn’t change the appearance of the ceiling, but it did allow precipitation to fall. Remus had helped him cast it on the ceiling of the Slytherin Common Room just before a mid-winter downpour.

 _“I wonder if Sirius would enjoy waking up to new-fallen snow?”_ He went to the bedroom door that Sirius had adorned with a sign reading, “The Kennel,” and entered quietly. Sirius was sound asleep, sprawled diagonally across the one large bed, and tangled in the covers. James whispered the incantation as he traced the outline of the ceiling, setting the boundaries of the charm. He watched the first snowflakes fall and smiled when they began to land on Sirius’s black hair and bare back. He closed the door quietly and returned to the sofa and his magazine while he waited. Five minutes later, a snowball hit the back of his head.

“Morning, Spikehead.”

“Good morning, Padfoot. Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?” He watched Sirius, clad only in jeans, search the kitchen for a reasonably clean mug and pour himself some tea. He had two almost circular bruises, now fading to purple and yellowish-green, on and just beside his shoulder. _“Must have hit his shoulder pretty hard on that fall the first day,”_ James surmised.

“Yeah, well, I was tempted to transform into my fur and go back to sleep.” Sirius yawned widely and then used his wand to light two burners of the stove. He levitated a couple of slices of bread over the flames to toast them. “Would you mind turning off the snow? I can’t remember how and I doubt Remus wants to come home to a snowdrift. He won’t have fur to keep him warm for another two weeks.”

“Sure.” James returned to “The Kennel,” performed the countercharm on the ceiling, and then evaporated the snow in the room. He shook his head as he looked at the one large bed and its tangled covers. _“Lazy idiots didn’t even bother to transfigure the bed.”_ It had been the first thing he had done in the room he shared with Peter, transfigured the one large bed into two smaller ones. A pale blue sweater flying through the air narrowly missed his head as he went back to the living room. Sirius had obviously realized he needed it and summoned it from the pile of clothes on the floor of his room.

“Hey, Padfoot? Do you want me to split your bed so you two can each have your own?”

Sirius pulled the sweater over his head and emerged glaring at James. “Touch that bed and you die, Potter. It’s perfect.”

“Fine.” He sat back on the sofa and picked up _Quidditch Monthly_. “It’s just that you were taking up the whole bed earlier. Remus must hate sharing a bed with you.” James tried to resume reading, but he had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being stared at. He glanced up at Sirius and saw that he was right. “What?”

“Are you really _this_ clueless, James? How many times has Remus spent the night in our flat? In my room every time. It’s not because he misses my snoring.” 

James stared back at Sirius, trying to decide if he was really saying what he seemed to be saying. Trying to decide if he was being sincere or putting him on. _“Sirius can’t be gay. He’s always having girls spend the night.”_

Sirius shook his head and returned his attention to his breakfast, spreading chocolate-hazelnut spread on his second slice of toast. “Put the clues together. Even Peter could figure it out faster, although he’d probably say we’re ‘disgusting’.” He licked the knife clean.

“But—all the girls you bring home—”

Sirius laughed. “Yeah, I like girls. I like Remus too. The two don’t have to be mutually exclusive, you know. Remus likes girls too; he just doesn’t dare date any. He thinks he’ll scare the shit out of them.” Sirius laughed again. “He might be right. Our sweet, sensitive Moony gets rather aggressive in bed, _and_ he tends to bite.” He took a large bite of his toast as he watched James’s reaction to that statement.

James suddenly realized that Sirius’s bruises were not from skiing. He felt very, very stupid. Two of his best friends—in his own flat—and he had had no idea. Sirius rose and put his plate in the sink. 

“That’s how all of this started actually,” Sirius explained. “Some girl got Remus all hot and bothered, he felt like he was losing control of his wild side, and—you know Remus—it scared him to death. I suggested he might be better off with someone the wolf couldn’t scare.”

“You.”

“Me. We’ve been occasional lovers ever since.” Sirius sat in a chair facing the sofa and leaned forward looking intently at James.

“This isn’t your bizarre idea of a joke, is it?”

Sirius shook his head. He did look sincere, and just a bit worried. “You aren’t all shocked and horrified about this, are you?”

“Just a little bit.”

“Fine.” Sirius bit out the word angrily and stormed toward the kitchen to refill his mug. “Just do me a favour and say whatever you want to say to me and leave Remus out of it. The last thing he needs is one of the few people in the world who’ve ever accepted him to call him a freak.”

“No, I don’t—I mean—you caught me off guard. I’m shocked-surprised, not shocked-disgusted.”

Sirius’s shoulders relaxed and there was a smile of relief on his face when he turned back. “Lately, it’s been driving me crazy keeping you in the dark. I kind of liked it being our secret at first—back when I thought it was a temporary thing.” He sat on the sofa beside James and stared down into his tea.

“And now the relationship is something more?” James prompted. _“This could become very interesting.”_

Sirius pulled out of his reverie and laughed. “Don’t be such a girl, Jamie. This is sex, not a relationship, sex. Very, very good sex. Amazing sex.” He gestured expansively to indicate how “amazing” it was.

“O.K., O.K.,” James laughed, “no details, please.”

“But Moony and I aren’t going to copy you and Miss Evans and start picking out china patterns. Don’t tell Peter, all right?”

“Goes without saying. So, do you really think Simon and Sin are gay?”

“No idea about Simon, but Sin is, absolutely. He was practically drooling on Remus at Peter’s graduation party.”

 

Thursday Evening

Another night at one of the local bars. Another night watching Sirius work the room in search of female companions for himself and his friends. However, tonight James was watching Sirius—and Remus—with new eyes.

Sirius had just coaxed three American college students into joining them at their table. The women had seemed impressed when Sirius lied and said they were all studying at Oxford.

“And last, but not least, this is Peter Pettigrew, third son of the eleventh Earl Pettigrew.” Sirius winked at Peter as he made the introductions. “Of course, since our Peter is the _third_ son, he’s pretty safe from those awful women who chase titles.” The Americans nodded understandingly. “Things might be very different if they knew that his eldest brother is sterile due to an unfortunate polo accident.”

“Ouch,” Ellen, the pretty blonde sitting between James and Remus, said as she winced.

Sirius nodded sadly. “And his other brother, Simon, is a _confirmed bachelor_ , so—”

“Confirmed bachelor?” asked Amy, the brunette beside Peter.

“Gay,” clarified Tricia, the brunette between Amy and Sirius.

Peter glared at Sirius, but Sirius continued his act. “Yes, so it looks like Peter is the family’s only hope for heirs.”

Remus joined in. “It’s really fortunate that this isn’t common knowledge back home. British women love titles. Poor Peter would have women throwing themselves at him for all the wrong reasons. How would he ever find true love?”

“Poor baby,” Amy cooed as she threaded her arm around Peter’s.

 _“Hook, line, and sinker,”_ James thought.

“So what are you studying?” Ellen asked James. She leaned in slightly, gave a smile strangely reminiscent of the one Sirius used to charm McGonagall, and batted her eyelashes twice.

 _“A very experienced flirt,”_ James thought. 

“Sorry, Ellen dear,” Sirius interrupted. “Our James is engaged to be married, and if you were to tempt him, I’ll have to answer to a very angry redhead for introducing you.” She laughed lightly but leaned back away from James. “Now, Remus, on the other hand, is quite available.”

James raised one eyebrow at hearing Sirius call Remus “available” and looked over Ellen’s head at Remus. Remus was looking down into his beer, no obvious emotions visible on his face. Ellen then turned her skillful attentions on Remus.

“Same question,” she said as she cocked her head in a way that indicated he had her full and undivided attention.

“Well, I—” 

James decided it was his turn to be creative. “Remus’s favorite subject is mythological and folkloric creatures. He knows the subject inside and out.” _“Play with that, Remus.”_ “We figure he’ll end up teaching the course before long.”

“What types of creatures?” Ellen asked Remus.

“Dragons, trolls, vampires—werewolves,” Remus said it deadpan, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Ooh! I loved _Interview With the Vampire_!” Amy squealed as she pulled herself closer to Peter, pressing his arm against her very ample breast. “Did you read it?”

“Muggle fiction,” Remus quickly explained.

“No, afraid not,” Peter replied to the young woman. “It’s a good book?”

“Oh, yes,” Amy gushed. “Anne Rice is a wonderful writer.”

“You should read some of the erotica she writes under a pen name,” Tricia said. “Very hot and steamy.”

 _“Well, Sirius picked the right one for himself,”_ James noted.

“I prefer to experience ‘hot and steamy,’ rather than read about it,” Sirius said with a wicked smile as he put an arm around her.

“Good. So do I.” Her voice was warm and purring and hinted of bedroom whispers. “Let’s dance.”

James noticed that Remus was back to staring at his half-empty beer as Sirius and Tricia left the table and began to sway slowly, pressed closely together, on the dance floor. 

“So, what university did you say you all attend?” James asked.

“Lewisburg University. It’s in Pennsylvania,” Ellen said as she sat back so she could better divide her attention between the men on either side of her. “We’re all seniors, and we came here because we wanted to take one amazing trip together before we graduate in the spring and go our separate ways.”

“We were all dorm mates together as freshmen,” Amy added. “Now here it is, four years later, and we’re still friends. It will be so strange when we graduate and scatter to different parts of the country.”

Peter nodded. “We were dorm mates for seven years, so I know exactly what you mean.”

“You went to boarding school together?” Ellen asked Remus. Unfortunately, Remus’s attention was elsewhere, focused on a tall, dark-haired man with his arms wrapped around his pretty dance partner.

“Remus!” James gave the back of his head a quick tap. “Ellen asked you a question.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Remus blushed as he looked back at Ellen and James. “What was the question?”

“I was just asking about boarding school. You all went to the same one?”

“Yes,” Remus grinned now. “We all went to a school in Scotland.”

“Any chance we’ve heard of it?”

Peter and James both laughed as Remus shook his head still grinning. “I doubt it. It’s the kind of place you’re only likely to hear of if you, or someone in your family, went there. Everyone in Peter’s and James’s families has gone there for as long as anyone can remember.”

“Very exclusive, huh?” Amy asked as she looked at Peter.

“Very,” James assured her. “Tell them about the castle, Peter.”

“Castle?”

“Well, it’s about a thousand year old, and it’s amazing. Towers, dungeons, secret passages—everything you could want in a ‘home away from home.”

“Except central heating,” Remus said.

“Don’t be such a wimp, Remus,” James scolded. “There were fireplaces in most of the rooms we spent any time in, and you just had to dress warmly in the corridors.”

“I don’t like towers,” Amy said with a shiver. “I’m afraid of heights.”

“Our dormitory was in a tower,” Peter told her. “But they were big rooms, and unless you deliberately looked out a window, you’d never realize how high up we were.”

“Well, I’d much rather live in a tower than a dungeon,” Ellen said.

All three men laughed. “We agree with you,” Remus said, “for several reasons.”

“We only had to go down to the dungeons for Potions lessons,” Peter said—and then went pale as he realized what he had said.

“Chemistry,” Remus said instantly. “We nicknamed it ‘Potions’ because it was held in the dungeons and the name sounded appropriate.”

Ellen laughed and smiled at Remus. “It _is_ appropriate. I know when I took chemistry—the Bunsen burner aflame, beakers and vials full of potentially explosive ingredients, chemicals combining to create completely different things—I felt a bit like a medieval alchemist. I muttered ‘Double, double, toil and trouble. Fire burn, and cauldron bubble,’ under my breath more than once.”

 _“She likes you, Remus, and she likes Shakespeare,”_ James thought. _“Do you like her?”_ His question was answered as Remus gave Ellen a slight smile and then glanced back to the dance floor. Remus’s smile died as his gaze flew around the room searching for Sirius. He stared in the direction of the bar for a few moments and then stared down at his beer, swallowing hard.

James looked toward the bar. Sirius and Tricia were sitting on bar stools, each with one knee between the other’s thighs. He had one arm on the bar behind her; his other hand was playing with her long hair. She had one hand possessively on his upper arm, the other caressing his upper thigh. Their quiet conversation was punctuated by occasional lingering kisses.

“I’m going to the ladies’ room,” Ellen announced. “Want to come, Amy?”

“All right. Be back soon,” she promised Peter as she gave his hand a squeeze.

No sooner had the women gotten out of sight then Remus stood up abruptly. “I’m not feeling very well. I think I’ll call it a night.” He looked at James as he put on his jacket. “Tell Sirius that I’m planning on sleeping on the sofa tonight, so he can bring Tricia home if he wants.”

“Take my bed,” Peter offered. “You shouldn’t be on the sofa if you aren’t feeling well. Besides, I’m shorter, so I’ll be more comfortable on the sofa than you’d be.”

Remus shook his head. “Thanks, Peter, but I took the risk; I’ll pay the price.” Remus left without looking at Sirius again.

“Peter, I think I’ll take off as soon as the girls get back,” James said. He wanted to get home in case Remus needed to talk. James pulled some of the local Muggle money out of his pocket and pushed it across the table to Peter. “Use this if you want to get anything else.”

“Don’t go, James. Ellen won’t want to stay if you and Remus are gone, and Amy might not stay if Ellen leaves.”

“I have a feeling that at this very moment, Ellen is telling Amy that she wants to leave. Why don’t you offer to walk them both home? Maybe you can make a date with Amy.”

James discovered that he had read the situation correctly when the two women returned to the table but did not sit down. They accepted Peter’s offer, and the three were talking to Tricia and Sirius as James slipped outside and apparated back to the front door of the chalet.

He entered to find the room still dark except for the starlight reflecting off the snowdrifts and coming in the windows. Remus was a dark silhouette in front of the window directly opposite the door.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Remus replied, but his voice was thick. He’d been crying.

James cast a charm on the ceiling causing it to glow softly. “No, you’re not, and you don’t have to pretend you are.” 

Remus nodded but didn’t turn around. “Sirius told me that he told you. He’s wanted to for awhile.” Remus sniffed once as he wiped his face with his sleeve. Then he cleared his throat and turned to face James. “I’m fine, really.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be fine if I had to sit there and watch Lily kissing someone else.” He decided to make hot chocolate. _“Chocolate, the miracle cure, especially for Remus.”_

“It’s not the same thing,” Remus said sadly as he sat on the sofa and watched James. 

“Why not?” James asked. He found two mugs in the sink that weren’t too objectionable and rinsed them out.

“Because, you two are in love, and us—well, I’m just someone Sirius sleeps with when no one better is available.” Remus laughed mirthlessly. “Well, _that_ sounded bitter, and I really didn’t mean it to be. I mean, I get as much out of it as he does. The whole thing started because he wanted to help me, you know.” James nodded and began to spoon shaved chocolate into the milk he had magically heated. “So it’s not like anyone has been taken advantage of. We both went into this with our eyes wide open.”

James handed one mug to Remus as he sat beside him. “You said how Sirius feels about you. You didn’t say how you feel about him.” Remus was silent for a several long moments as he considered his answer.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said finally.

“Of course it matters.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Anger was creeping into Remus’s voice. “What do you want me to say, James? Do you want me to say that I’m in love with him? I won’t. I can’t. I have no right to screw up our friendship by falling in love with Sirius.”

“Love chooses us, not the other way around. You couldn’t help it if you fell in love.”

“I _did_ have a choice,” Remus slammed his mug down onto the coffee table as he bolted off the sofa and began to pace the room. “I love all three of you as friends, and Sirius…. I knew how strongly I already felt about Sirius, and I started sleeping with him anyway. I was playing with fire. If I got burned, of course it’s my fault!” Remus closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath. He was obviously trying to rein in his emotions again. “Sorry, James. I shouldn’t yell at you.” 

“It’s O.K. You’re angry at Sirius, and I’m the only handy target.”

“No!” He paused for a moment and sat down in a chair facing James. “No, I’m angry at _me_. Don’t you get it? Someday, Sirius is going to fall in love, get married, and have kids. He wants all the same things you do; he’s just not in as much of a hurry as you are.” Remus smiled at this, and James grinned back. “My friendship with you three is the most important thing in the world to me. When all those good things happen for Sirius, I want to happy for him. I really do. But right now, feeling the way I do, I can’t be.”

“What are you going to do?”

“What can I do? I have to stop sleeping with him and hope that someday I can see him with someone else and not feel like dying inside.” He pointed his wand at the hot chocolate he had spilled on the table and carpet as he murmured a cleaning charm.

“Trying to fall _out_ of love, good luck. Do you—” James was interrupted by the opening of the front door and the arrival of Sirius and Peter.

“We escorted the ladies home, _and_ —” Sirius looked at Peter to finish the sentence.

“And I’m taking Amy to dinner tomorrow night,” Peter said with a happy grin.

“Congratulations, Peter,” James said. “Does she still think she’s the future Countess Pettigrew?”

Peter hung up his jacket and sat beside James on the sofa. “No, I told her that Sirius just made that up.”

“Then the young lady was left with a choice,” Sirius explained as he moved behind Remus and put his hands on Remus’s shoulders. “She could either reveal herself to be a title-chasing Slytherin, or she could prove herself to be better than that and give our Peter a real chance. I’m pleased we can report the latter.” He looked down at Remus and felt his forehead with the palm of his hand. “How are you feeling? Peter said you weren’t feeling well.”

Remus smiled bravely as he held James’s gaze. “I’m better, thanks. James made me some hot chocolate, and it helped.”

“Good. Thanks, Prongs.” Sirius looked down at Remus again. “You should go to bed. You’ll need a good night’s sleep if you’re getting sick.” Remus gave James a pleading look. 

“Yeah, about that. Remus is moving into Peter’s room, and I’m moving in with you, Sirius.” 

“Why?” Peter asked just before stifling a yawn. The look in Sirius’s eyes was also asking, _“Why?”_ and not as disinterestedly.

“Sirius snores,” James said. “Go get your stuff, Remus.” Remus gave James a grateful smile and did as he was told. Sirius moved to follow, but James stood and grabbed his arm. “Talk to him tomorrow,” James said quietly. Sirius glared at James but didn’t try to follow Remus.

“Well,” Peter yawned again, “I think I’ll get ready for bed, too.” He rose and went into the bathroom.

“What did you say to him?” Sirius growled at James as soon as they were alone. 

“I just listened.” 

Remus emerged from “The Kennel” carrying a hastily packed bag and an armload of clothing. He went into the other bedroom without meeting Sirius’s eyes. Sirius’s eyes found James instead. They were hurt, and confused, and very, very angry.

“I have to get my stuff; I’ll be right back,” James said as retreated into his room. He found Remus sitting at the foot of a bed, holding his things, and looking slightly stunned. “That’s Peter’s bed; you can have the other. Use the drawers on the left. I’ll empty them out.”

“Thanks, James.” 

“No problem.” James suddenly laughed. “Except now I’m in a room with a very angry Padfoot who thinks I talked you into dumping him.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Remus said as he stood up.

“No, I told him to talk to you tomorrow. I can deal with him until then.” Peter came into the room then, ending the conversation.

James found Sirius in his bedroom. He had already transfigured the one bed into two and was stretched out on the one nearer the door, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. 

“What’s going on, James?” Sirius continued to stare at the ceiling as he spoke in a low and angry voice.

“Talk to Remus. I don’t want to be in the middle of this.” James began to put his clothes away in the dresser drawers.

“You already are ‘in the middle.’ I tell you about us this morning, you talk to Remus this evening, and now—boom—he moves out of our room.”

“This really has nothing to do with me, Sirius.”

“Everything was fine until tonight.” 

“No, everything was not ‘fine’,” James snapped. “Why do you think Remus left early tonight? Do you think he liked sitting there watching you with your tongue down some girl’s throat?”

“Don’t be stupid, James. Remus doesn’t care who else I date. I know I’d be happy for him if he met somebody.”

James slammed the drawer shut. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? You’re assuming that he feels the same way you do, and he doesn’t. Remus, on the hand, is quite aware of his feelings and of your lack of them.”

Sirius sat up abruptly. “My lack—”

“He’s decided that he has to choose between being your friend and being your lover, and he’d rather be your friend.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yes, I’d say that sums it up rather nicely.” James threw his pajamas on the bed and began to undress. “Now that I’ve said far, far, too much, I think I’ll get ready for bed. Goodnight, Sirius.” Then regretting the angry tone in his voice, he said more kindly, “Talk to Remus tomorrow. He’s not angry at you, only at himself.”

 

Friday Morning

Somehow, Peter managed to be everywhere the next morning. No sooner had Remus come out of the bedroom for breakfast, and Sirius jumped up from the sofa to go speak to him, then Peter came out of the bedroom to have his own breakfast. When Remus finished eating and went back in the bedroom, Sirius got only as far as the doorway when he heard Peter say, “Excuse me, Sirius, I need to finish getting dressed.” James watched with a sort of sad amusement when Sirius, desperate to talk to Remus, even tried to follow him into the bathroom. Peter just _had_ to brush his teeth.

“Do you have a lesson today, Remus?” Sirius asked as they buckled their ski boots.

“No, yesterday was the last one. I’ll ski with you guys today. That is, if you want me to.”

“Good,” Peter said. “We can start the day on the long trail James likes. If James and Sirius can handle it, so can you.”

“You just love reminding us that you’re a better skier, don’t you, Peter?” Sirius asked with an edge of annoyance in his voice. 

James knew that Sirius didn’t really mind Peter’s needling; he was just annoyed by Peter’s unintentional interference with Sirius’s efforts to speak with Remus. 

“Of course I do,” Peter admitted with a grin. “After seven years of being reminded that you and James are better flyers, fair’s fair.”

This gave James an idea. “Well, Peter, you may be the more skillful skier, but I am accustomed to speed. Why don’t you and I start the day with a little race? That last trail we took yesterday, top to bottom, no stops.” He looked meaningfully at Sirius. “Then in half an hour, we’ll apparate to the top of that easier trail and meet Remus and Sirius.”

“All right, if Remus and Sirius don’t mind.”

“No,” Sirius said quickly. “We’ll meet you in half an hour. Who do you want to wager on, Remus?”

“I think James will get off to an early lead, but crash spectacularly. My money is on Peter.”

“I’ll take the bet.” Sirius pulled off his glove and extended a hand to Remus. Remus smiled and shook Sirius’s hand. They held for a second longer than was necessary, but James wasn’t sure which one was responsible.

* * * * *

James jabbed his poles into the ground and leaned forward against them as he wiggled his toes. The charm keeping the inside of his ski boots warm was working quite well, and he wondered how Muggles skied with cold feet. He watched Remus ski away from him, carefully following the path Peter was making. A sudden spray of snow hit James’s legs. 

“Well, that’s one trick you’ve mastered this week, Padfoot, stopping without falling.” He kept watching Remus and Peter.

“Remus has gotten pretty good,” Sirius said. “Amazing to think he never skied before this week.”

James turned to see Sirius’s face. His friend was looking down the slope with a proud smile on his face. “How did your talk with Remus go? Are you two O.K.?”

Sirius looked down at his feet, stamping them to shake some snow loose. “We will be. I really never meant to hurt him.” He looked up at James and held his gaze unflinchingly. “But I did hurt him, didn’t I?”

“You aren’t ready to be in love, Padfoot.” He looked away and watched the shrinking figures of their friends. “In like, in lust—those you can do, but in love—you aren’t ready.” He turned back and saw Sirius hanging his head again, the very image of a whipped dog. “Listen to me, Sirius. You have a big heart, a kind heart, and a lust for life. Someday, you’ll be ready to fall in love, and when you do, whoever it is will be very lucky. Remus understands that too. He’ll be O.K.”

 

Friday Evening

“Knight to Queen’s Bishop three,” James instructed his chess piece. 

“So, which strategy are you using this time? A real, thought-out plan, or randomly moving your men to confuse me?” Sirius wondered. “What do you think, Remus?”

“Hmm?” Remus looked up from the book he was reading while sitting in a chair near the chess game. “What did you say?”

“Never mind. King’s Castle, take the pawn.”

James was impressed. The three of them had spent an entire evening together, and not once had there seemed to be any awkwardness. No awkward silences for James to fill, no flinching away from each other rather than accidentally touch while making dinner, not even any excessive politeness. He knew that “everything is back to normal” was, at this point, just an act, but they were both excellent actors. Of course, he should have known that. Hadn’t they carried on an affair right under his nose?

“Loverboy is home,” Sirius announced as Peter opened the front door. “How was your date?”

“Pretty good,” Peter said as he took off his jacket and hung it by the door, “but it’s weird dating a Muggle.”

“Oh?”

Peter sat beside James on the sofa. “I had to keep lying all the time, and she kept talking about things that I had no idea what she was talking about, but obviously I should have known.”

“You should have taken Muggle Studies, Peter,” Remus said. 

“Too late now.”

“I know what you mean,” James said. “It’s weird when Lily and I are with her relatives or her Muggle friends. I find myself just nodding stupidly and feeling rather ignorant. And I _did_ take a year of Muggle Studies. Makes me really appreciate how strange the first year at Hogwarts must have been for her.”

“Well, it helped that we were from different countries. Whenever I didn’t know what she was talking about, she just assumed it was because I’m English.” Peter suddenly laughed. “Hey, Remus, guess what Ellen said when I brought Amy home.”

“What?”

“She wanted to know if you and your boyfriend had kissed and made up yet.” Peter laughed again, oblivious to the fact that no one else did. “What an ego. She assumes that if you didn’t like her, you must not like any girl.”

“Quite an ego, indeed,” James said. “Remus just has high standards.”

 

_—Written February 2003_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I make Peter homophobic? I needed a reason for the others to keep him in the dark. In my opinion, if Remus and Sirius had been lovers, AND Peter had known it, it would have come up in the Shrieking Shack in PoA. (I think that part of the reason the kids believe Sirius’s story rather than Peter’s is because Remus, who was friends with both, believes Sirius. If Peter could have said, “Of course you’re taking your lover’s word over mine,” to Remus, he would have.)


	2. Denial

First Quarter

Sirius wandered out from his bedroom and collapsed into his favourite chair. The leather was soft, smooth, and the same dark, dark brown as black coffee. _“Black coffee, black clothes, black hair, Black name, black reputation—Bad Boy Sirius Black doesn’t get serious about anyone.”_ He sighed as he rubbed the instep of a bare foot against the sharp edge of the coffee table.

“No hot date tonight?” Lily asked.

Sirius looked up at the sofa in surprise. He hadn’t realized that Lily was here. She must have arrived while he was bathing and changing his clothes, and he had been too lost in his own world to notice her as he entered the room. James was sitting back against the corner of the sofa, arms wrapped around Lily’s waist. Lily was sitting between his legs and leaning back against his chest. The notebook she used for organizing the wedding plans was in her lap, and she was holding— _“What did she call it?”_ —a fountain pen. He was intruding.

“Oh God, I’m sorry, guys.” Sirius started to get up. “You want to be alone.”

“Sit, Padfoot.” Lily commanded. “If we want to be alone, we’ll go in James’s room. I’m just surprised to see you staying home on a Friday night.”

“Wasn’t in the mood to go out tonight.” Sirius settled back into his chair and ran his fingers through his damp hair, first fluffing it up and then smoothing it slightly.

“Stop showing off your perfect hair,” James grumbled, but with amusement, not annoyance, in his voice.

Lily giggled. “I like your messy hair, James. It’s sexy.”

Sirius smiled as he watched Lily twist around to give James a quick kiss. “Congratulations, James. You fell in love with the one woman on the planet who thinks your hair is sexier than mine.”

“No, not the only one,” Lily said with an enigmatic smile as she resumed writing in her notebook, “just the only one you need to know about.” James didn’t take the bait. He obviously agreed with Lily that he didn’t need to know who the others were.

“So, any other relatives you want to invite?” she asked James.

“Uncle Cole and Aunt Daphne. He’s my dad’s cousin. They always throw a Muggle breakfast cereal called ‘Cheerios’ at weddings instead of rice.”

“Why?” she giggled.

“Well, they were on their way to a wedding once—” 

Sirius tuned out the rest of the story and just watched James and Lily instead. They seemed to “fit” together, and he didn’t just mean the way his being wrapped around her seemed the most natural thing in the world. They matched each other in some ways. Both were intelligent and enjoyed deep discussions on a wide variety of subjects. Both were caring and tended to put others’ needs before their own. In other ways, they complemented each other. Whereas James could be single-minded and intense in his focus, Lily never lost sight of the larger picture. He was more adventurous; she was more cautious. Somehow, it all balanced out, and both their lives were the richer for it.

Sirius knew he wanted that, but, _“Not yet. I’m only nineteen. Remus is only eighteen, for a few more months. We’re too young to be planning the rest of our lives. Now is the time to just have fun, or as much fun as we can have with our world going to hell. And he deserves someone better than me, anyway.”_

“Why do Muggle brides wear white?” James asked. Sirius began to listen again. He had grown up in a primarily Muggle area, so he was more familiar with Muggle culture than James was, but Muggle wedding customs were a mystery to him.

“White symbolizes purity—a virgin bride,” Lily said with a smile, “but with the exceptions of my Great-Aunt Letty and my sister Petunia, no one really expects the bride to be a virgin anymore.”

“That’s good,” James said laughing. “I’d hate to be responsible for you not getting to wear your dream dress.”

“My cousin wore white,” Lily said giggling, “and she was six months pregnant.” She curved her arm and pantomimed a large belly. “Besides, I’m going to wear ivory. It’s close enough to white, but better with my colouring. And that’s _all_ you get to know about the dress until the wedding.”

 _“Pregnant—a baby—oh, yes, James and Lily will make wonderful parents. The baby probably won’t even learn how to cry; he’ll be picked up and loved at the first hint of a whimper. Lily will sing him lullabies in that sweet voice—which occasionally wanders off the correct notes—and James will teach him how to fly, and I’ll teach him how to pull all the pranks that James doesn’t dare teach him, and Remus will—Remus would be a great dad. He’s patient, and good at reading people, and considerate, and he knows how to do that ‘Dad Look’ that says, ‘I love you but I’m very disappointed in what you did.’ The look that makes you want to be a better person so you’ll never see that look again. That’s what Remus deserves.”_ He watched Lily snuggle back against James as he trailed a hand up and down her arm. _“He deserves a beautiful wife who understands him and loves him, a houseful of kids, and a loyal pet dog—not a horny, so-called best friend who takes advantage of him when he’s lonely and vulnerable.”_

“I’m hungry,” James said. “Anyone feel like cooking?”

“Not really,” Lily answered. “I’m your guest, remember?”

Sirius shook his head. “Your turn, Prongs.”

“Take away it is, then. Chinese? Indian? Fish and chips?” He disentangled himself from Lily and headed for the door.

“Indian,” Lily replied, and Sirius nodded. James grabbed Sirius’s black leather jacket as he opened the door.

“Looks better on me; the biker look doesn’t work with the glasses,” Sirius called after him. “I’m getting a beer, Lily. Do you want one?” He rose and went into the flat’s tiny kitchen.

“All right.”

He pulled two bottles out of a cabinet charmed to keep its contents cold, opened the bottle caps with a tap of his wand, and poured one into a glass. “I need a girl’s opinion,” he said. He handed Lily the glass and returned to his chair.

“Next girl I meet, I’ll send your way.” Lily grinned as she tucked her legs underneath herself and took a sip.

“Oh, excuse me. Miss Evans has reached the ripe old age of eighteen. O.K., I need a woman’s opinion.”

“Yes, you look better in your leather jacket than James does, but I’ll deny saying it.”

Sirius smiled at the joke but felt too tense to laugh. He sat leaning forward, elbows resting on his legs, and rolled the bottle between his palms. He stared down into the mouth of the bottle rather than look into Lily’s green eyes. “Do you think I sleep around too much?”

“Define ‘too much’.”

“That’s what I’m asking you to do.” He raised the cold bottle to his lips and tipped his head back, letting a large swallow of beer pour down his throat. Then he returned to contemplating the bottle.

“Well, there are two ways I can answer that. One, if you’re asking the question, the answer is probably ‘yes’.”

Sirius nodded. “And two?”

“As soon as someone gets hurt by it, it’s too much.”

Sirius groaned and dropped his head, resting his forehead on the cold circle of the bottle’s mouth.

“I knew something was wrong. You’ve been too quiet lately.” Lily sat on the arm of the chair and rubbed his back in comforting circles. “Anyone pregnant?”

Sirius laughed at that thought. _“Remus—pregnant—don’t think so.”_

“Did you break someone’s heart?” Sirius nodded. “Anyone I know?”

“I’d rather not say.” He sat back in the chair but still avoided Lily’s eyes.

“Remus?” Now he looked up at her. He didn’t mind that James had told her about them, but he was surprised that James had told her without mentioning the disastrous ending of that relationship.

“James told you?”

“No,” she smiled, “despite rumours to the contrary, James does not tell me everything. Nor do I tell him everything. I figured you’d tell him yourself when you were ready.”

“How did you find out? Did you see me kiss him or something?”

Lily began to giggle. “You forgot—” Her giggle burst into full-fledged laughter. “I had—” She was laughing too hard to catch her breath and began to turn red. When James came in carrying a large paper bag, Lily burst into a fresh peal of laughter and slipped off the arm of the chair.

“What did you do?” James accused as he dropped the bag and rushed to help Lily up.

“That’s what I want to know,” Sirius replied as they each grabbed one of Lily’s hands and pulled her to her feet. Lily was still flushed, but seemed to have gotten her laughter down to a few giggles.

“It was a couple of months after you moved into the flat, and—” she cleared her throat as she suppressed another fit of giggles and retrieved dinner from the floor, “—and Remus and I both happened to spend the night. Well,” she paused again, trying unsuccessfully to stop grinning, “I got up early the next morning because I had to pee.” She opened the bag and started putting various containers on the coffee table. James fetched plates and forks while trying to keep her in sight. Sirius just sat on the arm of his chair and stared, wondering what they could have done that was so amusing. “Apparently, Remus and Sirius put a silencing charm on the walls of their room, but they forgot the wall that adjoins the bathroom.”

“Oh God,” Sirius began to chuckle. When he was with Remus, they both tended to get quite—vocal. He didn’t dare look at James’s reaction to Lily’s being a witness.

“Anyway, you sounded like you were having a _very_ good time, and—um—it was _inspiring_. I woke James up when I got back into bed.” Her devilish grin caused both men to laugh.

“Thank you, Padfoot.”

“You’re quite welcome, Prongs.”

 

Full Moon

Remus paced back and forth through the centre of the old barn, kicking at pieces of straw in his path. Peter sat nearby on a hay bale, huddled inside his cloak to stay warm.

“What time is it?” Remus asked sharply.

“Two minutes since the last time you asked me,” Peter answered patiently. “They’ll be here; they said they would.”

Ordinarily, Remus would only be slightly nervous at this moment. He’d assume that James and Sirius would arrive before moonrise unless an unforeseeable catastrophe prevented it. However, tonight was not ordinary. Tonight was the first full moon since he had told Sirius that he wouldn’t sleep with him anymore. He couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling that Sirius would not come, that he would have to endure tonight without Padfoot.

Remus imagined Sirius and James arguing about it at this very moment. Sirius, feeling rejected, needing to reject back. James telling him, “Stop being a prat and get your furry ass to that barn.” Or Sirius wanting to come and to be supportive, but James giving him second thoughts, making him wonder if his presence might be too awkward while Remus was emotionally vulnerable

Remus knew that he was especially vulnerable tonight and tomorrow. As much as Remus craved Sirius, the wolf craved the presence of Padfoot. Padfoot was the only one who could stay close and help him through the horrific eternity that was the transformation. Prongs and Wormtail—a stag and a rat—prey animals. That the wolf could recognize them as pack mates was a miracle Remus couldn’t understand. He was grateful that he could, but he knew that it was a miracle that only took place after the pain subsided and his mind cleared, as much as his mind could clear when the moon was full. Throughout the long night, Prongs and Wormtail would be welcome companions. Their presence could help keep loneliness at bay and could help preserve some of Remus’s mind in the wolf. But Padfoot—the dog—canine, comforting, familiar, a true pack mate. Padfoot was the one Moony craved. Only Padfoot howled with him, mock-fought with him, hunted with him. Only Padfoot understood the wolf; Padfoot was the only one the wolf understood. And come morning, it would be first Padfoot, and then Sirius, who provided Remus’s weary body with that familiar lifeline of warmth and touch. At least, that was the way it always had been, before. Remus knew it would be painful to have Sirius so close at the very moment his emotions were most primal and exposed, but it would be more painful not to have him there.

“I don’t think they’re coming. Strengthen the walls so you can lock me in.”

Peter rose and pulled out his wand. “I’ll do it, but only so you stop worrying. I still think they’re coming.” He started by charming the front door and proceeded clockwise around the barn.

“Do you have a way out?”

“At least three. Plenty of rat sized holes in the walls of this drafty old place.” 

That was one thing Remus knew he could count on. Peter always made sure that he had a way out in case the wolf took too long recognizing him.

Two quiet popping noises as James and Sirius suddenly appeared in the centre of the barn. Remus had to stop short in his pacing rather than bump into James. He almost asked, “Where were you?” but bit it back and remained silent. Instead, he turned on his heel, walked to the back wall, and slouched against it, hands deep in his robe pockets.

“Be right back,” James called cheerfully as he climbed into the hayloft, a duffle bag over his shoulder.

“Don’t mind grumpy Remus,” Peter told Sirius. “He just worked himself into a state thinking you two weren’t coming.”

“Of course we came, Remus,” Sirius went to Remus and put his hands on his shoulders. 

Remus forced himself to look directly into Sirius’s icy blue eyes, _“Sirius’s eyes, Padfoot’s eyes, just the same.”_

“Of course I came. Friends forever, right? I’ll be here unless you tell me not to be.”

All of the tension in Remus’s body coalesced into a knot between his shoulders and an enormous lump in his throat. He swallowed with difficulty. “I’m sorry. I— You know how I get. Moon brings out my pessimistic side.”

“No, it’s my fault. We did cut it kind of close, didn’t we?”

“I made up a bed for you in the loft with the hay and some blankets I brought,” James explained as he climbed back down the ladder, “so you can rest here tomorrow before app—is everything all right?” Remus looked over Sirius’s shoulder and saw James staring at him with a worried expression. He nodded and tried to smile.

Remus felt the familiar ache that warned him moonrise was imminent. If he didn’t undress soon, his robe would be torn to shreds. However, for the first time since his friends had learned that he was a werewolf and he no longer had to hide his scars, he felt uncomfortable undressing in front of one of them. 

“I’d better—” Remus began to pull off his shoes. Sirius released his shoulders and a moment later, Padfoot stood before Remus. He lay down facing away from Remus, his fluffy tail stroking back and forth across the top of his feet. “Thanks,” Remus said quietly.

“Give me your robe and your shoes,” James said as he strode toward them. “Is your wand in your pocket?”

“Um-hmm.” 

James pulled the wand out and tucked it into his own pocket for safekeeping, then he banished the robe and shoes into the loft. Remus then turned his back on James to brace his hands against the rough wood of the wall. He wanted to stay on his feet, stay human, as long as possible. All of his muscles were beginning to tense simultaneously, and he trembled slightly.

“Do you want one of the blankets?” James put a warm hand on Remus’s shoulder.

Remus wanted to answer, “No,” or “Go away,” but his jaw was clenched too tightly. The trembling increased. Thoughts subsided. A warm furry mass brushed against the backs of his legs, and the warm hand fell away. Padfoot pushed the human away. Padfoot was here.

 

Morning

Remus needed to bite but Padfoot’s weight pressed down on his neck and shoulders, holding him down. The urge subsided, he stopped struggling, and the weight lifted. The warm fur stayed close; Padfoot lay down beside him. Remus curled toward him, grasping handfuls of black fur, breathing in the familiar scent, sobbing in relief. Relief that the pain was ebbing. Relief that Padfoot was there. There was a momentary sliding sensation in his hands, as silky fur became the woven fabric of a robe. Sirius turned slightly, toward Remus, so they now lay face to face. He wrapped strong arms around Remus’s trembling body.

“Shh, Moony, it’s all over. It’s morning. It’s all over. Shh, I’m here.” Sirius’s voice was low and quiet and warm. It washed over Remus and washed some of lingering ache away with it.

“Is he hurt? He’s crying.” Peter spoke from somewhere a few yards behind him.

“I don’t think anything is broken or dislocated,” James answered as he quickly ran hands over Remus’s arms, legs, ribs. A warm cloak, deeply scented with the slightly musky scent of a stag, covered Remus, shielding him from the winter air but not the frozen ground.

Sirius’s voice continued in a low comforting murmur as Remus struggled to regain control and slowed his crying to a few broken sobs. 

“The barn isn’t far. We got as close as you were willing to go,” James explained. Do you want to walk Remus? I can conjure a stretcher if not.”

“No, I’ll carry him, James,” Sirius answered. “Just help us get up.”

“Are you sure?”

Sirius laughed. “I think you’ll have to break his fingers to get him to let go of my robe. You don’t want us to break your fingers, do you, Remus?”

Remus shook his head and buried his wet face in the folds of fabric near Sirius’s neck. He breathed in deeply; the scent was dizzying. _“Padfoot. Sirius.”_ With a great effort of will, he pulled his head away from the robe so his voice wouldn’t be muffled. “I’ll walk,” he croaked. His throat hurt. “I’ll walk, just hold onto me.” 

“What’s wrong?” Peter’s voice was closer this time and very worried.

“He had a rough night, that’s all,” Sirius answered as pulled away slightly and tried to get to his feet. Remus reluctantly let go with one hand as James grasped one of his arms and assisted him up. 

The barn was only a dozen yards away, a dozen more to walk around to the front door. Sirius kept one arm around Remus the entire way. James stayed close enough to assist should he stumble. It was only when they reached the base of the ladder that Remus realized his fist was still tightly clutching a fold of Sirius’s robe. He stared at his fist for a moment and then looked at the amused expression on Sirius’s face.

“Do you want to break my fingers, or shall I?”

Sirius chuckled. “Never knew you were part Grindylow, Moony. Are you O.K. to climb?”

Remus nodded. He was tired, but not injured. He could handle the short climb. Sirius climbed just a few steps behind, his arms on either side of Remus, ready to support him if he should slip. Remus crawled across the loose straw to the blankets James had thoughtfully arranged. The improvised bed was soft enough—although he was so tired that he could probably sleep soundly on bare rock—but it was cold. He had walked to the barn barefoot and wearing only a loose cloak. The mid-winter chill had thoroughly penetrated his flesh and taken residence in his bones. He pulled the cloak more tightly around himself as he curled into a fetal position between the wool blankets. His body trembled as it fought to drive the chill out.

“You’re freezing,” Sirius said as he slipped between the blankets and curved to fit against Remus’s back and legs, to bring as much of his own warmth into contact with Remus as he could. Two jigsaw puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly. “Just until you warm up a bit. This is O.K., isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Remus whispered hoarsely. _“Oh God, yes. It’s perfect.”_ Sirius’s arm lay heavy and strong around Remus’s chest, making him feel protected and safe. Remus slipped his own hand partially up Sirius’s sleeve and absently stroked the soft fur of his lower arm. Even through their clothes, he could feel Sirius’s strongly muscled chest and flat stomach press against his back with each breath. And lower… _“I could rub back against him, just a little bit. Or more. I know he’d respond. I could feel him pressed against me just one more time.”_ He breathed in deeply, drowning himself in Sirius’s scent. _“I could tell him that I was wrong. Tell him that I need to feel him inside me. Tell him that I need him. Tell him that he’s everything to me.”_ He pressed himself deeper into Sirius’s arms as if seeking warmth. _“He doesn’t want to be everything to you! He wants to be your friend. You’ll lose him if you need too much.”_

“No,” Remus whispered as pulled away from Sirius. “No, it’s too good, Sirius. Please go.”

“All right, Moony. Get some rest.” Sirius rolled out of the blankets and sat back on his heels. _“It’s not fair,”_ he thought as he watched Remus shiver alone in his cold bed. _“I’ve been helping him warm up on cold mornings after the full moon since long before we became lovers. And now I can’t even do this for him anymore. Yet another thing I screwed up. Of course, I used to spend more of the morning as a dog than as a human. Didn’t want him to think I was a poof.”_ Sirius almost smiled at the thought of his younger self. “Remus, would a big, warm dog be O.K.?”

Remus hesitated for a moment before answering, “Not today.” He turned his face deeper into the lower blanket, away from Sirius’s gaze.

James spoke from the ladder. “Just put a warming charm on the blankets, you idiot, and let Remus sleep.” His tone was more sympathetic to Sirius’s dilemma than his words.

 _“I am an idiot.”_ A warming charm was the obvious solution, but it hadn’t even occurred to him. _“Here I am justifying getting into bed with him instead of thinking about what he needs.”_ Sirius charmed the blankets and followed James down the ladder.

Peter was blowing on his hands to warm them as he waited below. “Are you and Remus fighting or something?” he asked as Sirius stepped off the ladder. “I’ve never seen him bite you so much before.”

“He didn’t bite me,” Sirius growled angrily. 

Peter raised his eyebrows in a look that clearly said, _“That’s not what I saw.”_ Then he shrugged. “Whatever you say. I’m just glad it wasn’t me. Can one of you stay until he wakes up?”

“I can,” James and Sirius said simultaneously.

“Good. I only took off half a day from work, and I’d love to go home for a few hours of sleep before work this afternoon.”

“See you later, Peter,” James said as Peter gave them both a wave and disapparated. 

Sirius stalked to the corner farthest from Remus, sank down onto a hay bale, and leaned back against another. He watched James transfigure a loose pile of hay into a pair of pale yellow blankets. James dropped one on Sirius’s lap as he found his own comfortable spot beside his friend.

“You should go home and sleep yourself,” Sirius said. “In case you’ve forgotten, tomorrow is St. Valentine’s Day, and I have a feeling that Lily will be very insulted if you fall asleep during your date.”

James merely adjusted his own blanket, settling in. “I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t need to chaperone us, you know,” Sirius said in annoyance. “I’m an idiot, but I’m not a heel.”

“I know.” 

They sat in silence for several minutes. Sirius examined the blanket rather than speak to James. _“Light in weight, but insulates well—just like straw. Fibers every which way—like the straw. Still slightly scratchy. O.K., not scratchy, but not soft either.”_ He sniffed the edge. _“Still smells like hay.”_ “McGonagall would only give partial marks for this blanket, Jamie.”

“You want a better one, do it yourself.”

He looked up at James and smiled. “No, I like it. Thanks.” Both knew that Sirius was thanking James for more than just the blanket.

“Anytime, Padfoot.” James smiled back. “Do you need any cuts or scrapes healed? Lies to Peter aside, Moony did bite you quite often last night.”

“He wasn’t biting me!” Sirius insisted. He kept his voice low so he wouldn’t wake Remus. “He just nipped at my fur.”

“And the difference is?”

“He wasn’t trying to hurt me; he was just—herding me, directing me where to go. Anyway, he stopped as soon as I got the message.”

“Which was?”

“Stay close.” Sirius looked guiltily at the wall where he and Remus had spoken the evening before. “He got really worried when we were late last night. He thought we weren’t coming; he thought _I_ wasn’t coming. That’s why he didn’t want me out of sight last night.” 

James nodded in understanding and then closed his eyes. “He’s terrified he’ll lose you as a friend. I guess it’s only natural we’d see it in both personas.” He yawned and seemed ready to fall asleep. Then he opened one eye, reminding Sirius of his owl trying to decide if a disturbance was worth waking fully. “You said he stopped biting you—excuse me—nipping you once you started staying close?”

“Yeah.”

James opened his other eye as well. “But I saw him bite your face a couple of times this morning.”

Sirius waved a hand dismissively. “That’s just a dominance thing.”

“Dominance?” James asked with slightly amused look.

“The alpha wolf holds—never mind. It’s the wolf way of saying, ‘You’re mine.’ He always does it, usually just after he changes. He just did it more than usual last night. You really should read that book on wolf behaviour, James.”

James stared at Sirius during this explanation, eyes blinking behind his glasses. _“An owl, definitely,”_ Sirius thought

“It means, ‘You’re mine,’ he does it every month, and you needed _me_ to tell you that he’s in love with you?” James’s tone was incredulous, and Sirius found it very irritating.

“It doesn’t mean, ‘You’re mine,’ _that way_. It means that I’m part of his pack.” Sirius shifted uncomfortably, guiltily, on the hay. “I know I’ve been a complete idiot in figuring out what the human Remus is feeling, but give me credit for understanding the wolf. Once a month, Moony _doesn’t_ hide his feelings.”

Sirius closed his eyes and tried to relax enough to rest. He knew that James had magically locked the barn door, so should the farmer come to fetch some hay, they would have plenty of time to hide in the hay loft or wake Remus and apparate away. After a few moments, James spoke again.

“Dominance, huh?”

“Yes,” Sirius said slowly.

“And Moony’s the alpha. You’ve told me that before.”

“Your point, James?” Sirius asked, although he suspected where the conversation was leading.

James began to chuckle. “Can I draw any conclusions about your sex life from this?”

“A, former sex life, and B, you said that you didn’t want details.”

 

_—Written February 2003_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to the memory of Uncle Coul and Aunt Daphne, who really did throw Cheerios at my wedding.
> 
> Reminder: I wrote this before OotP came out, so I didn't know anything about Sirius's family yet. Forgive any non-compliance with later canon.


	3. Three Augusts

August 1979 

“Not too awful,” Remus said to the mirror as he straightened his dress robe one last time and pushed his hair back out of his eyes.

“You look better than that, dear,” the mirror replied. “Though you do need a bit of hair pomade or something. The way your hair keeps flopping into your eyes is very messy.”

“If you think my hair is messy, you should see the groom.”

“He’s the responsibility of another mirror.”

“Ready, Remus?” Sirius asked as he poked his head around the door. “James could really use someone calm around him, and you’re much more calming than I am. Daft idiot has already fallen for the ‘Uh-oh, I can’t find the rings’ routine three times.” 

“Coming.” Remus started for the door but stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Sirius’s grin. “What?” He looked down at his robe to see what was wrong. “What’d I do?”

“You look—” Sirius dropped his eyes to the floor and cleared his throat. “I mean, that robe is perfect for you.”

“Tell James. He bought it.” 

Remus’s pride had been stung that James had to buy a dress robe for him, but he hadn’t argued. His own robes were slightly too short and frayed, he couldn’t afford new ones, and James and Lily shouldn’t have to be embarrassed by how one of their groomsmen looked. And this—this was better than any he had ever had before. The robe was made of deep chocolate-brown silk. The shirt, the belt, and the lining, which was visible where the robe was folded back on itself at the collar and down the front, were all made of honey-colored silk, embroidered with elaborate Celtic knots in gold and bronze threads.

“I know. I picked it out. I thought it would go with your eyes, the way they’re brown and gold at the same time.” Sirius’s cheeks were flushed when he looked up at Remus again. “I hope you don’t mind that I did. I mean, James has a lot of fine qualities, but he knows nothing about clothes.”

Remus’s breath caught in his throat for a moment. Whether it was the thought that Sirius had taken the time to choose this for him, or that Sirius had ever paid attention to the color of his eyes, or perhaps just the look on Sirius’s face as he sought Remus’s approval. For a brief moment, Remus flashed back to the first time they had touched and kissed, and Sirius had looked at him just the same way, silently asking if they could go further, his hands making sure that the answer would be ‘yes.’

“Yes—I mean—no, I don’t mind—I mean—thank you, Sirius. It’s beautiful.” Remus didn’t know whether to blush in embarrassment or to laugh at himself. He did both. “God, I sound stupid.”

“Good, so does James. Maybe you’ll make sense to each other.”

* * * * *

Remus sat on a low wall beside one of the fairy-bedecked bushes not far from the patio where the dancing was taking place. He brushed away a fairy that strayed into his line of sight as he watched the dancers. Sirius and Helen. _“The way he moves—he’s just completely and totally comfortable in his own skin, completely unselfconscious. Of course, what is there to be selfconscious about when you’re the most gorgeous thing on the face of the planet?”_ Sirius and Ivy. _“His hair is beautiful in the sunlight. Somehow it swallows the light and shines with it at the same time, and it feels like warm silk.”_ He momentarily stroked one hand against the opposite sleeve. _“It feels better than warm silk.”_ Sirius and Lily. _“Lily was right to wear a Muggle wedding gown. James almost couldn’t breathe when he first saw her. Someday I’ll see Sirius dancing with his own bride. He’ll stare at her like he can’t breathe. Get used to it, Remus.”_ Sirius and Louise. _“God, I want to move with him like that. I want to hold him like that. I did once, just once.”_ Sirius had once dragged Remus into a gay bar—“Please, Remus, I really want to dance with you.” _“But here, with Peter watching, with our classmates watching—no, he’d never dance with me. He’s not that masochistic. He’s not that unselfconscious.”_

“The summer that I was twelve,” said Lily’s voice in his ear, “my mum forced me to take an etiquette class. Quite boring. Petunia loved it.” Lily sat on the wall, facing the opposite direction from Remus but leaning back slightly so they could see one another.

“Did you learn anything?”

“Yes, I learned that when one is at a social event with dancing, it is a rude for a gentleman to sit out all the dances, especially if there are single ladies in need of partners.”

“The last time I checked, Mrs. Potter, you were no longer on the list of ‘single ladies’.”

She gave him “the look”—it hadn’t worked on him when she was the Head Girl either, although it did work on almost everyone else— and then she sighed. “Well, if you won’t dance with any of the girls, then go ask Sirius to dance. It’s obvious you want to.”

 _“Oh yes, I’ll just tear the scab off a wound that’s trying to heal,”_ he thought. _“That’s sensible.”_ “If it’s rude for me not to dance with the ladies, then wouldn’t it be doubly rude of me to deny them someone who is willing to dance with them?”

“I give up; you win,” Lily said as she rose to leave.

Remus reached back and grabbed her by the wrist. “I’m sorry, Lily. Consider me thoroughly chastised and dance with me?”

 

August 1980

“He’s so beautiful.”

“Especially when he’s asleep.”

Sirius looked up from contemplating his messy-haired godson to look at his messy-haired best friend. James was stretched out on two garden chairs, leaning back in one, feet up on the other. The wrought iron chairs didn’t look particularly comfortable, but James seemed tired enough to sleep anywhere. 

“I think Daddy is going to sleep, Harry, so it’s just you and me,” Sirius whispered to the infant curled against his chest. Sirius had conjured a hammock between an oak tree and—nothing—and was now enjoying the gentle rocking motion with his favourite tiny person. 

Harry _was_ beautiful when he was asleep. Thin eyelids dyed purple by the fine veins just under the surface. Pink lips parted to breathe and to drool on Sirius’s robe. Tiny fingers curled into fists, one on either side of his head, alternately pressing into Sirius just slightly as they rocked. Silky tufts of black hair. It was still sparse and thin, but it promised—threatened— to be just like his daddy’s some day. Sirius gently ran one finger across the top of the baby’s head.

“I promise that I’ll never tease you about your hair, Harry. Now Daddy’s hair, on the other hand, is fair game.”

Harry yawned and opened his eyes, blinking in the late summer sun. Sirius shifted him in his arms so he could look into the bright emerald eyes.

“I love you, you know.” Harry seemed to be studying him intently. “We’re very lucky, you and I. Mummy and Daddy love you, but they have to be parents, so sometimes they’ll have to say, ‘No.’ But me, I get to spoil you rotten. I’m kind of like a grandparent that way, but I’m much more fun. Not many grandparents would take you on a flying motorcycle, but I will. As soon as you can sit up. Can you say, ‘Padfoot’?”

“He’s not quite a month old, Sirius,” Remus commented as he drew near and grabbed an empty chair, repositioning it to be closer to the hammock and farther from the sleeping James. Peter, in his wake, did the same. “He may have smart parents, but I think you’re expecting a bit much.”

“I know, but if he hears me say it often enough, it might be his first word, and won’t that drive Prongs nuts.”

“His first word is going to be ‘Moony.’ It’s much easier to say.”

“I guess that I have no hope in this competition,” Peter said. “May I hold him, Sirius?”

“Sure, Peter. Just support his head.”

“I remember,” Peter said as he lifted Harry off Sirius and cradled him in his arms.

“How are you feeling?” Sirius asked Remus. The full moon had only been two nights earlier, and Sirius was still feeling guilty that he hadn’t been able to be there.

“Fine,” Remus answered quickly, too quickly. He tugged at the hem of his sleeve as if making sure it covered new scars on his arm.

Sirius noticed Peter glance at Remus as if he didn’t believe him either. Only Peter had been able to be with Remus this month, so they had spent the night locked in a secure cellar. Even with the familiar and calming presence of Wormtail, the wolf had probably resented confinement. Sirius had not yet gotten a chance to ask Peter how the night had gone. Peter looked at him now and shook his head slightly. It had been bad.

“Where’s Lily?” Remus asked, obviously changing the subject.

“She said that she was going to take a long bath and then a nap, or perhaps she was going to take a nap _while_ she took a long bath. She wasn’t sure which.”

Remus leaned closer to Harry and played with his fingers. “Amazing to think that such a tiny person can be so tiring. James could juggle studying, Quidditch practice, pranks and detention, and still find time to snog with Lily, but between Harry here and battling a few Death Eaters, he’s too tired for anything else.”

“Makes you think twice about becoming a parent,” Peter commented. Do you want to hold him, Remus?”

“Sure,” Remus answered instantly. He took the baby very carefully, positioning him first against one side of his chest—wincing slightly—and then shifting Harry to the other side. 

Sirius found himself thinking, yet again, that Remus was born to be a father. _“He’d be a better dad than I would. I’m the spoil-them-rotten-Godfather. It’s the perfect role for me. But Remus was born to be dad, just like James.”_ He smiled as he saw Remus briefly bury his nose against Harry’s short little neck.

“I love the way babies smell,” Remus admitted.

“It’s the baby powder,” Sirius said.

“No, that does almost overwhelm his scent, but if you smell carefully, you can smell a special ‘Harry smell’ under the powder.”

“Do you want kids someday, Remus?” Peter asked. Sirius held his breath. Why hadn’t it ever occurred to him to ask? 

Remus looked down at Harry and smiled at the way Harry was clinging to the front of his robe with one tiny fist. “Maybe if things were different. Evil dark creature, remember? No, I’ll leave fatherhood to the three of you, and I’ll be available to baby-sit twenty-eight nights out of twenty-nine. Better make that twenty-seven out of twenty-nine. I’m a bit too short-tempered the night before. Harry, can you say, ‘Moony’?”

“I hate when do that,” Sirius growled as he sat up and put his feet on the ground.

“What, teach him to say my name?”

“No, I hate when you pretend that people are right to treat you like you’re evil. There isn’t any evil bone in your body, Remus Lupin. So, you can’t be around your own kids, or anyone else’s, one night a month, big deal. If that’s all you stay away from them, you’ll be doing better than most of the parents in the country.”

“Two nights.”

“I doubt that, but even if it were true, you’d still be a great father.” Sirius knew he sounded angry, but he couldn’t help it. Someone, anyone, treating Remus unfairly made him angry—even if that person was Remus himself.

Behind him, Sirius heard the soft scuffle of James’s boots on the flagstones as he awoke and sat up. Peter looked away from his two arguing friends toward James, silently entreating him to intervene. James did not.

Remus just shook his head and kept looking at Harry. “Even _if_ that were true, Sirius,” and he emphasized the ‘if’ to indicate that he was not conceding that point, “what about everyone else? _They_ see me that way and never let me forget it. Do you really think it would be any easier to grow up in our society the child of a werewolf than as a werewolf? I wouldn’t do that to a child.”

Sirius didn’t know what to say. He could vividly remember Remus when they had first met, beaten down by too many rejections, forced to lie and hide in order to avoid more rejection. If being the child of a werewolf were even a fraction as difficult, perhaps it would be too cruel.

Remus rose from his chair and carried the baby over to James. He cupped his hand around the back of Harry’s head.

“He’s got your hair, Prongs.”

“I know. Poor kid.”

Remus dropped his hand and looked seriously at James. “You’re afraid of me sometimes, aren’t you?” 

James seemed to consider his answer a bit too long for Sirius’s liking. When the answer did come, he liked it even less. “Sometimes. Rarely.” 

Remus nodded. He turned then to look at Sirius and Peter. “And you, Peter? Go ahead and answer honestly. I already know the answer.”

“Sometimes. I’m sorry.”

Remus smiled at Peter to reassure him that he did not mind. Then he shifted his gaze to Sirius. “But you aren’t. You never have been. Maybe if you were, you wouldn’t have been stupid enough to send Snape into the tunnel.”

“Damn, Remus, how many times do I have—”

Remus cut him off. “My point is, you _should_ be afraid of me, Padfoot. _I’m_ afraid of me. I’m more dangerous than you’re willing to admit, and not just one night a month. You have no idea how—” Remus stopped and closed his eyes for just a moment. When he looked at Sirius again, there was a softness to his expression, an aspect of holding himself less tightly in control. Sirius realized that this was not his friend speaking to him, but his former lover. “I made _this_ decision a long time ago, Sirius. Before. It has nothing to do with you.”

 

August 1981

Sirius levitated the toy griffin out of the trunk and made it dance in the air just out of Harry’s reach. 

“Come on, Harry, one little step, and you’ll have the flying lion.”

“It’s a griffin, not a lion,” Lily said from the nursery doorway.

“A rose by any other name would still smell as sweet, and a lion by any other name would still have a great roar.”

Lily knelt on the floor a few feet in front of Harry and held out her hands. “Come on, Harry. Time for lunch. Padfoot can join us as soon as he finishes unpacking your things.”

“Slave driver.”

“You would have been finished an hour ago if you didn’t stop to play with each and every toy as you unpacked it.” 

Harry had been staring at his mother and bouncing up and down slightly as if trying to encourage his feet to move forward. He now fell onto his well-padded bottom and began to crawl to her.

“Harry and I have a system, Lily. We always play with the toys when we unpack. Don’t we, Harry? That’s how he can be sure I didn’t forget to pack anything important.”

Harry had now reached his mum and was grabbing hold of her robe to stand up again. Lily embraced him tightly.

“I just wish we didn’t have to keep moving. I wish—”

“I know, Lily.” Sirius rubbed her back reassuringly. He felt the same way. One attempt had been made on Lily’s life shortly after she and James had married. No further attempts had followed, and it had seemed to be an isolated incident. One random Death Eater trying to curry favour by killing a Muggle-born witch who had married into a pure-blood wizard family. But recently, there had been three attempts on the lives of the Potters. Night attacks when all three members of the family were likely to be home. More Death Eaters involved in each attempt. It now seemed that Voldemort himself had selected them as targets. 

James, his best friend, his brother, who always knew what Sirius needed even when Sirius didn’t know it himself. Lily, the girl who won James’s heart and then generously shared him with Sirius. Harry, who he loved not because he was James and Lily’s son, but just because he was Harry. The thought that they had been marked for death by Voldemort—Sirius had rarely been frightened in his life—he could count the number of times on one hand and have enough fingers left over to give Voldemort a very rude gesture—but he was frightened now. He would _not_ lose them.

“It was stupid of me to insist on having a birthday party for Harry. No one knew where we were living until we had the party,” Lily said. She kissed the top of Harry’s head and continued to cling to him tightly, as if afraid to let him go. 

Sirius had argued vehemently against the party while alone with James, but now, after the fact, he took the same side that James and Lily had taken. “No, it wasn’t stupid, Lils. You can’t stop living. If you do, Voldemort wins. Besides, you only invited friends, people you can trust. I doubt the party had anything to do with them finding you.”

Lily nodded and took Harry to the kitchen. Sirius returned to unpacking the toys and clothes. 

_“I hope the party had nothing to do with it. I’d hate to think that one of our friends told Voldemort where they were hiding. Of course, the more people who know, the greater the risk. One friend of the Potters mentions to someone that she is going to a birthday party on Saturday. Another one buys a birthday present for a child. Another mentions that he is going to Cornwall on Saturday. If the Death Eaters are being observant, it wasn’t hard to put together. No one had to deliberately say a thing. But what about the previous time? What about the next time? There won’t be a next time. This time the only ones who know where they’re living are Remus, Peter, Helen, Ivy, Dumbledore, and I. None of us will tell. We won’t.”_

As Sirius walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, he unwillingly found himself reflecting on Remus’s odd behaviour of late. After a series of ever-cheaper flats, Remus had moved once again about four months ago. He had refused to tell anyone where he was living. Their owls seemed to find him without any difficulty, and judging by the speed of the replies, he hadn’t moved far from London. In fact, there were a lot of things Remus just wouldn’t talk to him about anymore. 

_“My fault. I hurt him, and that hurt us. It’s almost like when we were first years, before we knew, and Remus felt alone in the world.”_

And then there were those strange meetings. Peter had told Sirius and James that on two separate occasions, he had seen Remus speaking with someone on the street. The wizard, the same one both times, had disapparated abruptly when Peter approached. Remus had said that he didn’t know the man, that he was just someone asking for the time. Peter had believed him the first time, but not the second. Sirius hated the sick feeling he got in his stomach every time he thought of this, but he couldn’t ignore what might be happening either.

_“You told me that I should be afraid of you, Remus. You’re getting your wish. I hope you’re happy, because I sure as hell am not. I want to ask you to trust me again, but how can I when I don’t trust you?”_

Sirius walked into the kitchen to find Lily and James standing in front of the sink. Lily was clinging to James and quietly sobbing into his shoulder. James was stroking her hair and murmuring reassurances that everything would be all right, that they would be safe this time. Judging by the tense look on his face, the only thing keeping him from breaking down himself was the knowledge that it was Lily’s turn. Harry sat in the centre of the kitchen floor, staring up at his parents, his green eyes wide as he tried to understand why Mummy was crying. When he saw his Padfoot come in the room, he immediately held up his arms toward him. Sirius scooped up Harry and carried him into the small back garden.

He kissed Harry’s cheek and smiled to reassure him. “Don’t worry, Harry. Mummy’s O.K. She’s just had a rough couple of days. Padfoot won’t let anything bad happen to your mummy, your daddy, or you. I promise. No matter who they are,” he swallowed hard at these words, “I won’t let them hurt you. You’re going to grow up safe and happy, Harry. You have my word.”

 

_—Written February 2003_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wondering where Remus is living? You'll find out when Sirius does.


	4. Secret Creatures

Nearing Sunset

Wind ruffled the shaggy fur of the black dog, making him appear monstrously large. Or it would, if anyone were observing him. The dog was careful that no one did. He sat now in the shadow of a crumbling stone wall, taking advantage of the camouflage his dark fur provided him. From a safe distance, he had already circled the small whitewashed cottage, and now he merely watched.

He was the most sought-after fugitive in Britain and had managed to remain free for two years only by a combination of caution, guile, luck, and well-timed assistance. Now, as he stood so close to the cottage he sought, the stakes were higher than ever. If he were caught here, he risked not only his own life, but also the life of one of two people he loved most in all the world. He could not count on luck, and he would not expect assistance. He sat and watched. If anyone, or any thing, were also watching this cottage, he would find them before they found him. When he had circled the cottage, the only person he had scented was the man he had come to find. He had not felt the bone-chilling cold that alerted him to the presence of Dementors. The only movements he saw now in the late-day light were that of small animals finding food while the diurnal predators were sluggish and the nocturnal ones waited for darkness.

He scented the smoke before he saw it rise from the cottage’s chimney. The man he sought was making dinner. The dog rose, shook himself to warm his muscles, and trotted slowly toward the cottage. He thought that the cottage suited its owner. It was small, probably just one or two rooms inside, just enough space to suit a solitary person who contented himself with the essentials in life. A chicken coop stood near a small garden growing vegetables and a few magical plants. _“To feed the body.”_ Fuchsia bushes, dripping with showy magenta flowers, grew on either side of the front door. _“To feed the spirit.”_ A stone shed with a heavy oak door stood on the other side of the cottage. _“To control the wolf.”_ The dog walked slowly toward the Gryffindor-red door, gathering the courage to scratch.

He knew that he would be welcome in Remus’s home. They had corresponded throughout the past year. Each had forgiven the other for mistakes and mistrust in the past. But, would he be welcome in Remus’s heart? Sixteen years ago, Remus had admitted that he was in love with Sirius. Sirius had been too young and too foolish to admit that he felt the same way. Sixteen years ago, Remus had begun trying to fall out of love with Sirius, at great personal cost to them all. If Remus hadn’t succeeded by the fateful Halloween that ruined all their lives, he had undoubtedly succeeded since then. Sirius knew there was no hope that Remus had remained in love with a man he believed to be a traitor, a murderer. Yet, Sirius had resolved to tell Remus of his feelings anyway. Too much that had gone wrong between them had been born of silence.

The dog’s heart was pounding so forcefully in his chest that he thought its beat must be visible through his fur. His sat back on his haunches and raised a paw to scratch, but the door suddenly opened inward revealing the man whom the dog loved. Warm brown eyes flecked with gold, _“I missed those eyes.”_

“Come in, Padfoot. Dumbledore wrote to me, but you’re a day earlier than he told me to expect you. I wondered how long you were going to sit by that wall.” Remus saw the dog glance around at the surrounding countryside nervously. “Don’t worry. No one’s watching the house. The Ministry kept a very close eye on me for about nine months after I left Hogwarts, but now they only spy on me once a month. Always the first Monday. Idiots.” The dog walked into the house, nails clicking on the wooden floor. He waited until Remus closed the door before shifting back into human form, rising from four legs to two.

Remus watched his friend’s eyes as they raised level to his own eyes. The pale blue eyes were the same in both incarnations. _“I missed those eyes.”_ He realized that he was staring, and turned away from Sirius before he made a fool of himself by blushing. “You’re just in time for dinner. There’s some bread on the griddle,” he gestured toward the fireplace. “Make sure it doesn’t burn, and I’ll go see if any of the hens laid any eggs since this morning.” Remus took a blue and gray earthenware bowl from a cupboard built into the wall and started for the door. 

Sirius had already taken a seat on the footstool near the hearth, and the sight made Remus stop for a moment just to look. In some ways, the sight was so familiar. How many times had he watched Sirius illuminated by the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room? The way the flickering light played with the black hair, deepening the shadows and reflecting gold wherever the hair curved just so, it was just the same. But his face, time and pain and the nightmare of Azkaban had changed his face. Sirius was still handsome; he would always be so, even to someone less biased than Remus. No, the difference was in the expression. Many of their schoolmates thought of Sirius as a class clown, someone always smiling and laughing, without a deeper thought in his head. Remus was one of the few who knew better. But even when Sirius stared into the fire with his most pensive expression, Remus knew that he would only have to call Sirius’s name in order to see him smile again. Now as he looked at his friend staring into the flames, Remus wondered if he would ever see Sirius smile again.

“Sirius?”

“Yes?” Sirius looked up at Remus, but he did not smile. His eyes were filled some deep worry.

“Nothing. I’d better look for the eggs.”

Sirius watched Remus go and then stood to look around the room. Entering Remus’s current home, seeing possessions he did not recognize, the accumulation of a lifetime—a lifetime that Sirius had been absent from—drove home the point that there was indeed a lifetime between them. In many ways, Sirius had only been away from Remus for two years, the two years he spent as a fugitive after escaping from Azkaban. He did not feel he had been truly been alive for the dozen years he existed in Azkaban, lost in painful memories. Remus, on the other hand, had accumulated an entire history of which Sirius was not a part. They had been apart for more years than they had spent together. He had asked Remus many questions in his letters; most of those questions had gone unanswered in the replies. Perhaps he needed to find some of the answers to know if it would really be fair of him to say anything.

The old cottage was indeed two rooms, as he had guessed. An enormous stone fireplace was the wall between the rooms. In the winter, the stones probably absorbed the heat from the fire during the day and then radiated that heat into the bedroom all night long. _“Remus always hated being cold.”_ The small room held only a few pieces of furniture. Ink stains on the surface of a small pine table attested to its dual role as desk as well as dining table. Behind the table stood a bookcase painted the same Gryffindor-red as the front door. The lower shelves held books while those at a more convenient height held assorted scrolls, Muggle notebooks, bottles of ink, and in a basket, quills. Another red bookcase, between the front door and the bedroom door, was filled with books and labeled boxes and baskets. Sirius recognized only a few of the books, textbooks they had used at Hogwarts and books they had given Remus as gifts. Sirius smiled when he saw a paperback copy of _A Wizard of Earthsea_. He himself had given Remus that particular book when they were about fifteen. He pulled it from the shelf to read the inscription. “Dear Moony, Let me know when you finish reading this. We’ll have a long chat about it then. –Sirius” He was pleased that Remus had kept it, in spite of everything. The spine of a large book caught his eye, red leather with “Moony’s Photo Album” written in gold letters—a gift from James. 

He was just about to pull it off the shelf when he smelled smoke. “The bread!” Just a few steps brought him back to the hearth. He grabbed the handle of griddle and jerked it back from its perch just above glowing coals. “Shit!” He shook his hand in the air. He needed either cold water or a wand to cool the burn. 

Lacking the latter, he sought the former. “No kitchen, no kitchen sink.” He opened the door tucked beside the cupboard on the back wall and found a bathroom with a large old soapstone sink. As he ran cold water over his red palm and fingers, he glanced around the bathroom. The bathtub had lion’s paws for feet. The ceiling was either painted sky blue or was enchanted to resemble the sky. Sirius couldn’t be sure without clouds. The room itself, although snug, was at least twice as large inside as the small addition had appeared outside.

“Padfoot?” Remus appeared in the doorway. “Are you all right?”

“I’m sorry, Moony. I was looking at your books and I burned the bread.”

“You burned your _hand_. Let me see.” 

Sirius held out his branded palm. Remus cupped it his own hand as he used his wand to heal the burn. Remus’s hand felt warm and slightly calloused. It felt _wonderful. “It was worth getting burned,”_ Sirius thought. _“Oh God, I’m hopeless.”_ Remus continued to hold Sirius’s hand for a few moments before releasing it abruptly and going to the hearth.

“He’s been here five minutes and you’re already holding his hand,” Remus scolded himself. “Hands off!” He crouched down and examined the charred food. “I think the bread is salvageable, just a bit blackened on the bottom. I found two eggs, and I’ve got some sausages in the cupboard that I was saving for you. I hope you don’t mind breakfast for dinner.”

“It’s got to be better than raw rat,” Sirius replied.

Remus looked up at Sirius with a wicked grin. “Yes, but raw rat makes such a satisfying crunch when the bones break, doesn’t it?”

“You’re a wolf after my own heart, Moony.”

Remus suddenly looked uncomfortable and didn’t seem to know where to look. Sirius wanted to kick himself for unintentionally reminding Remus of those difficult years when Remus had loved Sirius and had been stung by Sirius’s rejection. _“And now you love him and he doesn’t love you—turn about is fair play.”_

“Why don’t you go take a bath, Sirius, while I get the food ready?”

“Is that your oh-so-subtle way of telling me that I reek?”

“Even to a nose less sensitive than mine. When was the last time you took a bath anyway?”

“With soap? About nine months ago, just before I came back. Dog paddling around in ponds and streams has had to suffice since then.”

“Beats my record. Go.”

Sirius didn’t argue. He did want a bath, and he did want to finish quickly so he could eat. However, during dinner, he fully intended to find out what Remus’s non-bathing record was. It was time Remus answered at least one question about their years apart.

The bathroom ceiling now had a few puffy clouds, purple above apricot—definitely enchanted. Sirius was in the tub as soon as he could strip off his robe. He didn’t plan to soak, so he felt no compunction to allow the tub time to fill. As it was, the water was soon so murky that Sirius would have drained it and refilled it if he had wanted to soak. He washed his hair twice. He didn’t usually—that is, when shampooing his hair had been a usual occurrence, he hadn’t usually done it twice—but nine months of oil and dirt and hippogriff drool seemed to demand it. 

He liked the smell of the shampoo. Time spent as a dog had made him more aware of scents, but not much better at naming them. This just smelled—clean, and maybe a bit like spring rain. Remus had never liked soaps and shampoos with strong scents. He said that he liked people to smell like themselves. The first time Sirius had worn cologne, he found that Remus kept finding excuses to move to the opposite side of the room. The girl he was seeing at the time— _“What was her name?”_ —had liked it. Sirius had given the bottle to Peter within a few days. 

Sirius dried off as he stared at the filthy robe in a pile at his feet. _“I can’t put that back on. I’ll just have to pretend I’m still down in the tropics and wearing a sarong to dinner.”_ He hung up his damp bath towel and grabbed the other large towel off the towel bar. Knotting it around his waist, he returned to Remus.

“I hope the etiquette police don’t hunt me down for not dressing for dinner, but-” Sirius’s explanation died in his throat when he saw Remus staring at him. He became uncomfortably aware of how thin and wasted he must look. His ribs weren’t as obvious as they had been a year ago, but his arms and legs were still thinner than they should be. _“I’m not quite the sexy teenager who seduced him anymore.”_

“I’ve got some clean clothes you can wear. I bought a few things at a used clothing store that should be the right length for you, but they might be a bit loose.” Remus hurried into the bedroom and emerged a few moments later. “They’re on the bed.” Remus politely avoided staring this time and busied himself putting the food on the plates.

“Thanks.” 

The bedroom was small, cozy. A corner cupboard and a double bed filled almost every inch of floor space. Remus had lit the candles in two sconces over the head of the bed to give Sirius light to dress by. Muggle clothing, black trousers, a white button down shirt and a package of new boxer shorts lay on the bed. _“He remembered my favorite colour,”_ Sirius thought with a grin as he touched the trousers. The boxers were a bit too big, but not too bad. Remus must have noticed how thin he was when they briefly embraced last year. The trousers were the same way. _“I’m going to need a belt to hold these up. Maybe I can borrow Remus’s wand and transfigure something into a belt.”_ He was pulling on the shirt when he returned to the other room.

“I like the bathroom ceiling, Moony. You can be my decorator anytime.”

“On clear nights, I like to lie in the tub and look at the stars.”

“I’ll have to try that some night.”

Sirius took a seat at the table—the greasy, spicy smell of the sausages had pushed him from hungry to ravenous—but he realized that Remus had served him twice as much food as he had given himself. He offered his plate back to Remus.

“I’m not eating this much.” His stomach threatened to growl at his treachery. “Take some back, Remus.”

“I’m not very hungry tonight.”

“Look, I want to be here, but if my being here means that you’re going to starve yourself to feed me, I’ll leave tonight.”

Remus hesitated and then shook his head. “Really, I’m not hungry. I promise I won’t starve myself. Go ahead and eat, Padfoot. You need it more than I do.”

Sirius pulled back his plate and picked up his fork. “I don’t believe you, but I’ll pretend I do if you answer an important question.”

“What?” Remus asked tensely.

“What’s _your_ non-bathing record?”

Remus laughed, relieved at the innocuous question. “Four months.”

“How could you stand yourself?” Sirius asked around a mouthful of eggs.

Remus shrugged and began to pick apart a slice of burned bread.

“Why so long?” Sirius asked.

“Same reason as you. I was living somewhere where I didn’t have a tub, or water, or soap.”

“Where?” 

Remus shrugged again and ate his small amount of scrambled eggs in two forkfuls.

“Where?” When Remus showed no sign that he intended to answer, Sirius dropped his fork on the plate with a noisy clatter. “I know you like your privacy, and I should probably just drop this, but—but I need to know something, anything, about the years I was—away. I was gone so long, Remus, and—just tell me anything. Your choice.”

Remus looked up to meet Sirius’s eyes. He wasn’t ashamed of the difficult years that he had survived, but could he tell Sirius about them without Sirius pitying him? Or worse, blaming himself for the way Remus was left alone without the safety net of his friends? Probably not. Almost every letter he had received from Sirius had included an apology in some form. On the other hand, Sirius had lost so many years, and maybe he needed to know these things to get them back in some fashion.

“Where was I living? Cheap boarding houses when I could afford it, and when I couldn’t, park benches, abandoned buildings, grassy fields if the weather was warm, a cave for awhile, some areas of the Underground that were pretty cave-like, public libraries are a good place to get warm, but you’re only welcome if you’ve bathed recently. I was always searching for a safe place to spend the next full moon. I found this place about seven years ago. It had had a fire and had been abandoned for years. It was barely fit habitation for the local field mice. I made a deal with the owner. I’d make it habitable again and be responsible for all maintenance. She agreed to a token rent and a long lease. When I didn’t have the money for the rent, she let me do odd jobs around her house instead. She died a year and a half ago and left me the deed in her will.” 

Sirius closed his eyes and bowed his head as a sudden realization struck him. “The last six months—before—that’s why you wouldn’t tell us where you were living. You didn’t have a place to live.”

“Yes.”

“You should have told us. We would have helped.”

“I didn’t want help. It’s your turn to answer an uncomfortable question, Sirius. Why did you suspect me?”

Sirius looked up in surprise. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Tell me anyway.”

“Peter framed you. Yet another thing we have in common, Moony.”

Remus was momentarily stunned. He had been so sure that he knew the answer to that question. He hadn’t even planned to ask. “You mean, it wasn’t because—” Sirius looked puzzled. “I just assumed, but I should have realized that you were never afraid of me. It was both one of your most endearing and your most infuriating traits.”

Part of Sirius wanted to scold Remus for believing him capable of that kind of bigotry, but the fact was, Sirius _had_ suspected Remus of being the traitor, and if he was brutally honest with himself, the fact that Remus was a werewolf may have subconsciously played a part. He finished eating in silence.

“I have a present for you,” Remus announced as soon as Sirius finished. He rose and went to one of the bookcases. From the highest shelf, he took down something wrapped in fabric, something shaped like a wand. He put it on the table in front of Sirius as he banished their plates to the bathroom sink with his own wand.

“It’s not as good as having one custom fit at Ollivander’s, but—”

Sirius unwrapped the fabric carefully. His wand had once been almost a part of him, and now it had been so long since he had held one. Deep dark brown and a fine dense grain, it was almost identical to his two previous wands.

“Mahogany.”

“And a dragon-heartstring core. It wasn’t an easy combination to find in the shops I went to. I didn’t dare go to Ollivander’s and ask for that combination. He knew we were friends, and he would have remembered that’s what your other wands were. He would have realized who I was shopping for.”

Sirius gave it an experimental wave. He didn’t see any sparks, but his hand felt warm. The wand felt ‘right.’ “You remembered.”

“Of course I did. Mahogany like James, and dragon-heartstring like me.” 

Sirius stood up and looked around the room, deciding what to do first. His gaze settled on the threadbare wingchair in front of the hearth. _“A sofa, so we can sit together in front of the fire, like we used to do.”_ He imagined his favourite squashy sofa in the Gryffindor common room. He waved the wand and the chair stretched into match for the sofa he imagined.

Remus felt a warm glow all over his skin as he watched Sirius perform his first wand-magic in fourteen years. The smile on Sirius’s face as he saw the imagined sofa become reality was infectious. How many times had Sirius been the one to make Remus smile like that? Remus would willingly spend the rest of his life doing whatever it took to make sure that Sirius smiled like that every day.

Sirius slowly ran one palm over the red fabric, as if making sure it was real. He turned and almost lunged at Remus in his eagerness to embrace him. “Thank you, Moony.” Remus stood locked in Sirius’s arms, lost in Sirius’s scent, and unaware that Sirius was as unwilling to let go as he was.

 

Nearing Midnight

Sirius was trying to solve a puzzle. He felt it would be cheating to ask Remus for the answer, but if he didn’t ask, it would probably keep him up all night.

“Remus, there are photos missing from your album, but you have photos of me, and you have photos of— _Peter_ ,” he spit the name out, “so, it’s not that you destroyed those because you couldn’t stand to see them or something.”

Remus was sitting beside him on the new sofa, reading a book and enjoying the quiet companionship. He had noticed Sirius turning the pages back and forth, continually returning to the pages where photos had clearly been removed, but he knew that Sirius liked to try to solve his own puzzles.

“Which photos are missing?”

“One from James and Lily’s wedding, and one from late seventh year, and one from around when Harry was born.”

“A wedding picture, James holding the Quidditch Cup, and one of James and Lily with Harry. Besides you and I, who do you know who would want those three photos?”

“Harry.”

“Hagrid wrote to me, and to several other people, near the end of Harry’s first year. He wanted to put together a photo album for Harry, one filled with photos of his parents.”

Sirius had paused on a page in which a teenaged Sirius kept trying to push a nervous James toward a group of girls in the background of the photo. A girl with red hair smiled at the boys only when they were not looking. As Remus looked down at the photo, a tear splashed onto the younger Sirius’s robes. Sirius hurriedly rubbed away the tear and closed the album. 

“It isn’t fair. He shouldn’t have to know them only from photos. They should be here with Harry, with us. I miss them so much, Moony.” 

Remus pulled Sirius close and let him cry into his shoulder. He felt no embarrassment, no hesitation, about holding Sirius close now, about stroking his back, about kissing his hair. This was friendship; this was the love Sirius was willing to accept from him. When he felt Sirius’s sobs slow, he pulled away from him just slightly, just enough to see Sirius’s face. With his hand splayed behind Sirius’s head, he kissed away the last tear. Before he could pull away further, Sirius’s lips were on his own. The briny taste of tears mixed with the taste of Sirius’s mouth, a taste, a warmth, he thought he had forgotten. So much he had tried to forget surged back into his sense memory, fueled by the one kiss. And it was just one kiss. Sirius pulled back and put distance between them again. A flush of embarrassment colored his cheeks, matching eyes and nose made red from crying.

“It’s late, Sirius. We both need to sleep.”

Sirius nodded. “I could sleep out here. I could change the sofa into a bed.”

Remus had planned on sleeping separately, avoiding temptation. But now, having been kissed, he realized that was not what he wanted. He had stopped sleeping with Sirius sixteen years ago in hopes that he could fall out of love. It had not worked. He would spend the rest of his life in love with Sirius Black whether or not they ever touched again. And if Sirius needed the comfort of touch, he would not deny it to either of them.

“No, Padfoot, come to bed.” 

He extinguished the fire with a wave of his hand and then reached his hand out to Sirius. Sirius allowed himself to be drawn after Remus, into the bedroom. They both undressed silently. Remus had his back to Sirius as he removed his robe. Sirius suddenly became very still. Remus knew that he was staring at the unfamiliar scars that had joined the ones he knew so well. Remus turned so Sirius could see the ones on the front of his body as well. No, the wolf had not been kind to him in the years Padfoot was lost to him. Sirius gently laid his fingers on a wide band of scar tissue encircling Remus’s right wrist, the scar of a silver burn. The wolf hadn’t done that. He looked up at Remus with the question in his eyes.

“Don’t ask, Sirius. Not tonight.”

Sirius nodded, and they slipped into the bed. Each had left on boxers as if by mutual consent. Even this wisp of concealment was downright prudish compared to how they had once shared a bed, but neither wished to assume. Sirius lay flat on his back, tensely staring up into the darkness that filled the room when Remus extinguished the candles. He was torn between turning toward the man he loved and craved to touch, and turning away. He had already hurt Remus so much. He couldn’t bear to do so again.

Remus lay on his side, facing Sirius. He draped an arm across Sirius’s stomach. The contact was love and familiarity, but it was not sexual. Sirius relaxed at the feel of the familiar warm weight.

“I’m glad you’re here, Padfoot. Good night.”

“Good night, Moony. I’m glad I’m here too.”

Sirius had not rested more than an hour or two in several days. Lying here, cocooned in the warmth of Remus’s bed, he felt safe and protected. He spooned back against Remus’s body and fell asleep. Nightmares did not trouble him that night.

 

Sunrise

Remus slowly awoke in the midst of a familiar dream. Sirius was with him, in his bed once more. He breathed in Sirius’s scent, felt the warmth of his skin, slid his fingers through the silk of his hair. As he kissed and teased with his teeth the place where shoulder met throat, he realized that this time, it was not a dream.

Sirius rolled back into him, tipping up his head and offering his throat. This canine gesture of submission was one he had made to Remus, both man and wolf, many times before. Sirius had a faint smile of pleasure, but his eyes were still closed, and Remus did not know if Sirius was fully awake or merely responding to what he believed to be a dream.

The wolf did not care. He had been apart from his mate for too long, and at the sight of that beautiful throat trustingly laid bare for him, a low growl broke free. He bit Sirius’s neck, tasted the salt of his skin, and felt the beat of his blood pulsing under his teeth. He did not bite hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to make it clear that he could.

Sirius moaned. The sound drove Remus from merely aroused to nearly frantic with need. With one move, he pushed Sirius back, pinning his shoulders against the mattress while he himself rolled up onto his knees, roughly shoving Sirius’s thighs apart with one knee. He hovered just inches above him, staring down in the icy blue eyes, now open wide. A low sound in his throat, half dominating growl, half pleading whine, was the only way he could ask, entreat, beg. Human speech seemed impossibly complex.

Sirius stared up into Remus’s eyes, vaguely glinting gold in the early morning light. At this moment, he didn’t care which Remus wanted him, man or wolf. 

“Yes, Remus, _please_.”

 

Remus awoke for the second time that morning with a vague feeling of unease. Something was wrong. He reached out for Sirius but felt only cool sheets. Panic squeezed his heart, and he bolted upright. Sirius sat at the feet of the bed, arms wrapped around his legs, and his face buried against his knees.

“Sirius? Are you all right? Did I hurt you?” 

Sirius shook his head slightly, but Remus wasn’t sure which question he was answering. He crawled forward and touched his lover’s shoulder.

“Sirius?”

Sirius rubbed his cheek against Remus’s hand and then sat up to face him. His eyes were troubled.

“We need to talk, Remus.”

“You always were the master of understatement,” Remus replied with a slight smile. He sat cross-legged at Sirius’s feet. Sirius smiled back, but worry was still in his eyes. Sirius didn’t seem ready to take the lead in the conversation, so Remus tried to reassure him. 

“This morning was whatever you want it to have been: a one time thing, a mistake because we’ve both been alone for so long, or it could be the start of going back to how it was before. I’ll be here for you until someone better comes along. And given your present circumstances, Padfoot, that may be a while.” Remus hoped that Sirius would choose the latter.

Remus’s words were not reassuring to Sirius. He winced inside at the word “mistake” and felt nauseous as Remus said they would continue only until “someone better came along.” He almost missed the implication of Remus’s final words. _“Someone better for—me?”_

“Time out,” Sirius said, shaking his head in confusion. “ _Why_ are you willing to start again? Are you just desperately horny, Moony, or do you—are you—”

“Am I still in love with you?”

Sirius nodded and worried his lower lip between his teeth.

“Does it matter?” Remus asked as he stroked his fingers across Sirius’s cheek, bristled with several days worth of beard. “I absolve you of all responsibility for my potential broken heart. I’ll settle for however much time you give me: just today, a week, this summer.” He started to pull his hand away, but Sirius caught him by the wrist and kissed his palm. 

“How about the rest of my life, Remus? Could you put up with me that long?”

Remus sat still for a moment, his brow wrinkling as he tried to decide if Sirius was truly saying what he seemed to be saying. This time, it was Sirius who reached out to touch his lover’s face.

“I’m saying what I should have said years ago. I love you, Remus.”

Remus pulled out of reach, scrambling backward toward the pillows and shaking his head. Sirius felt his heart struggling to beat as an enormous hand squeezed it. He couldn’t bear to see the horrified look on Remus’s pale face, but he couldn’t look away.

“You’re just lonely, Padfoot, and you’re glad to see me, and then I confused things this morning. That’s all. You don’t love me. I know you don’t. Please don’t say that you do.” His voice dropped to whisper. “Please, don’t make me believe you love me. I won’t be able to bear it when I lose you.”

The monstrous hand unclenched. Remus did still love him. Now he just needed to convince Remus that he felt the same way. 

“No, I’m not confused, Remus, not anymore. On that ski trip, when we decided to go back to just being friends, James told me that I wasn’t ready to be in love. He was almost right. I was in love; I wasn’t ready to _admit_ that I was in love, to myself or anyone else.” He saw hope in Remus’s eyes. “And then by time I realized that I did love you, things were starting to go so wrong, and Peter was framing you, and—I’m so sorry, Remus. I knew you could never do those things, but I was afraid that I wasn’t seeing things clearly because I loved you. I was afraid to trust my heart, and I wanted to err on the side of caution, and—”

“You’re sure? You really do love me?”

Sirius held out his hand. Remus looked at it as if afraid to touch it. 

“I wouldn’t say this if I weren’t sure. I’ve hurt you too many times. I don’t want to hurt you any more, Remus.” Sirius suddenly pulled back his hand and said, “I do have one warning for you, though.” Remus watched Sirius warily. “I’ve decided that there are only two things I _really_ need in my life. First, I need to do everything in my power to make sure that Harry is safe and happy. So far, I’ve done a lousy job of it. I need to make it up to him. I promised.”

Remus nodded. “You promised James and Lily.”

“Yes, but I was thinking of the promise I made to Harry when he was a baby. Second, I need you in my life, how ever you’ll have me. The rest, like killing Peter or clearing my name, they’d be nice but I don’t _need_ them. I’d still love to kill him, but I was wrong to make it number one. Everything kept going wrong when I did. I hope you don’t mind being second.”

Remus smiled. “I think you’ve got your priorities exactly right.”

Remus finally reached out for Sirius’s hand and pulled him toward himself. Sirius walked on his knees until he was beside Remus. They sat side by side but facing each other, fingers entwined, their free hands touching and stroking each other’s faces, hair, backs, arms. Rediscovering each other. Remus threaded his fingers through Sirius’s hair again and pulled him in for a kiss. It was not their first kiss. It was not even their first kiss that day, if their hungry devouring of each other that morning could be called kisses, but in some ways, Sirius considered that it was their first kiss. This kiss was a beginning.

“I love you too, Sirius,” Remus said at last. He chuckled. “I’ve waited a long time to say that."

“Then say it again,” Sirius said with a smile. “I won’t mind.”

Instead, Remus nipped the soft skin just behind Sirius’s ear and whispered, “How ever will we celebrate?” 

“I’ve got a few ideas, but you’d better tell the wolf to heel. Padfoot’s turn to be the top dog.”

 

_—Written February 2003_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A Wizard of Earthsea_ is the first in a series of novels by Ursula K. LeGuin. Read it yourself, and you’ll understand why Sirius believed it would have special relevance for Remus.  
>  Why did I give Harry priority over Remus in Sirius’s life? It’s canon! Sirius spends his first two years after escaping from Azkaban staying close to Harry and trying to protect him. But I really don’t think Remus would object.
> 
> Want to know the story behind the scar on Remus's wrist? Read _The Scar_ , the next story in this series. (And if you want to read a story focusing more on ways in which Peter framed Remus, try my story _A Picture is Worth a Thousand Lies_.)


	5. And Harry Makes Three

Two Days Later

Padfoot reached up with a paw, depressed the latch handle of the cottage door, and shouldered the door open. He had transfigured the doorknob into a handle yesterday so he could use it as a dog. He pushed the door closed again before dropping two dead rabbits on the floor and retaking human form. Remus was sitting on the sofa but had turned to look at him as he entered.

“Padfoot the mighty hunter has returned. They put up a valiant struggle, but I was victorious in the end. I hope you like rabbit at this time of the month.”

“As long as you cook them. Moon has to be a bit rounder before I like ‘Bunny Tartare’.”

Sirius decided that skinning and cleaning the rabbits could wait. He threw an arm around Remus’s shoulders as he sat beside him on the sofa and watched as he darned a hole in the sleeve of a robe.

“That’s what I like to see—my dear little wife sewing by the fireside.”

“Fuck you, Padfoot.”

“Yes, please!” Sirius realized that it was his own robe, now clean, that Remus was mending. His good mood vanished. “Just burn it, Remus. I’m never wearing that thing again.”

Remus continued the repair. “It’s in pretty bad shape, but given my sporadic employment, I can’t afford to waste anything still useful.”

“I was wearing _that_ when I found James and Lily in what was left of their house. I was wearing _that_ when Peter murdered all those people in front of me. I wore _that_ for the twelve years I was in hell. I’ll stroll through Diagon Alley naked before I wear that robe again.”

Remus clipped off the thread and smoothed the robe across his lap. He considered a moment before he spoke. “All right. You don’t need to ever wear this again, but we won’t waste it either. I’ll keep it for the full moons, and if I accidentally destroy it, it won’t be a loss.”

“Thank you, Love.” He kissed Remus’s cheek. “Tear it to shreds with my blessing. Besides, I have money in my Gringott’s vault. You could take some out, and we could both get new clothes. How old is this any way?” He fingered the very thin and very patched sleeve of Remus’s grey wizard robe.

“Too risky. I know you’ve gotten away with withdrawing money before, but sooner or later the Ministry might convince the goblins to monitor your account.” Remus threaded a needle and began another repair. Sirius nuzzled his nose against Remus’s neck and ear. He loved having Remus close enough to touch.

“No, the goblins will never agree. Secrecy is almost as important to them as security—but if it makes you happy, better safe than sorry, I guess. Harry’s birthday is coming up, but I still have some money left from last time. Remus?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think there’s any chance that Dumbledore would let Harry come here for his birthday?”

“Perhaps. I recently added more wards and protective spells here—just in case.” Sirius grinned and peeked at his lover’s face. Remus had anticipated his request. “Well, I knew that you’d probably end up here sooner or later, Pads, and I wanted you to be safe. _And_ I knew that if you came here, Harry might end up visiting here, and we both want him to be safe.” He dropped the old robe on the floor, repairs unfinished, and reached for Sirius’s hand. “But I was thinking, if Dumbledore agrees that Harry would be safe here, maybe he could stay here longer than just a visit? I remember how much Harry wanted to live with you, and with the wards I’ve put in plus you and I to protect him, Harry should be as safe here as he is with his relatives.”

“And _much_ happier.” 

“The attic is big enough that we could change it into a bedroom. Right now, there’s enough headroom to stand only down the center, but with your help, I think I could raise the roof a bit and put in dormer windows. We could tuck shelves and drawers under the lowest parts of the ceiling, so the space isn’t wasted. It wouldn’t be spacious, but it would be his own room, and maybe it will make him feel like this his home, that he’s not just visiting.” 

“You’ve been giving this a lot of thought, haven’t you?” Sirius’s happy mood was back full force. This called for more physical contact than merely nuzzling against his lover’s neck. He climbed onto Remus’s lap, straddling his legs. Remus wrapped his arms around Sirius’s back while Sirius began to untie the belt of Remus’s robe. “Have I told you today that I love you, Moony?”

“Yes, but you can tell me again; I won’t mind. There _is_ one catch though. You have to tell Harry about us before he moves in.” Sirius closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to Remus’s. “If you don’t want to, I’ll understand. We’ll just have him here for his birthday.”

“No, you’re right; this is important. I’ll tell him. It’s just—you know how long it took me to tell James, and I was reasonably sure how he’d react. But Harry—I mean he’s a great kid, Remus. You know that as well as I do, but look who raised him. To the Dursleys, different equals wrong. Being raised that way rubs off on people.”

“I know, Padfoot. I’m nervous too. But I just keep thinking, I’m as different as they come, but Harry didn’t turn against me when he found out that I’m a werewolf.”

“And now we get to tell him that you’re a poofy werewolf,” Sirius said, staring to smile again.

Remus narrowed his eyes and gave him his “Be serious, Sirius,” look. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks of me, but what he thinks of you does matter. Think it over. If you decide to tell him, wonderful. If you decide not to, I can live with that. I’m just not willing to have him move in with us if he doesn’t know.”

“James lived with me and remained oblivious.”

“I was thinking of how Lily found out.”

“Oh God! We are practicing our silencing charms every day until Harry moves in!”

 

Two Weeks Later

“Thank you again for watching him for us. We won’t be home until seven or eight o’clock since we have to have dear Dudley’s uniform custom made in London and we want to make a day of it. Can you imagine the school outfitters not carrying his size? It’s incompetence, that’s what it is.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Mrs. Dursley. I haven’t seen much of Harry in recent years, and I’m looking forward to catching up with his school stories.”

“Oh no, he doesn’t have any school stories. Do you, Harry?” There was an unmistakable tone of menace in Petunia’s words when she addressed Harry.

“No, Aunt Petunia. Nothing worth telling.”

“Mind you behave yourself. I don’t want you giving Mrs. Figg _any_ trouble.”

Sirius listened to the exchange in the front hallway from the other side of the parlour door. Although he was in human form, he found himself fighting the urge to growl at Petunia. Instead he returned to the lavender velvet loveseat and growled at the cats surrounding and staring at Remus. 

“They don’t trust me,” Remus whispered.

“How can you be so calm?” Sirius whispered back.

“I’m not,” he replied.

The door opened and they were instantly on their feet. Remus brushed the back of his hand against Sirius’s to reassure him. Harry entered the room staring at his feet, or perhaps watching for cats that he might trip over. 

“You’re not my only visitor today, Harry,” Arabella Figg said with a smile in her voice. Harry looked up warily. His face lit up with happiness, and he ran into Sirius’s arms.

“I promised you I’d see you soon, Harry. Have your so-called relatives done anything that I need to turn them into fruit bats for?”

“Not recently.” Harry pulled away just enough that he could offer his hand to Remus. “I’m glad to see you, Professor.”

“Call me Remus, Harry.” Harry nodded and turned his eyes back to Sirius. Remus decided that was his cue to leave the room. “I’m going to go help Arabella in her garden so you two can talk.” Before leaving the room, he held Sirius’s gaze for a moment and smiled at him. Sirius felt warmer and calmer. He remembered how Harry had described feeling when he heard phoenix song.

“So, you’ve been staying at Professor Lupin’s house?” Harry asked as he sat on the loveseat. 

Sirius almost sat beside him, but quickly changed his mind and took the neighbouring chair. _“Just in case Harry’s uncomfortable around me after I tell him.”_

“I bet that’s been nice for both of you. He seemed really lonely when he was at Hogwarts.” 

“He’s had a lonely life,” Sirius said quietly. “But let’s start by talking about you. Things were pretty awful the last time I saw you. How are you doing?” 

Sirius felt a bit like a coward putting off the reason for his visit this way, but he also knew it was important that he was available for Harry to talk to. If Harry accepted his relationship with Remus and agreed to move in with them, these heart-to-heart talks could be more frequent, but if Harry did not—this might be the last time Harry wanted to open up to him.

“I’m O.K.,” Harry said. Sirius decided not to call him on the obvious lie. 

“Has your scar hurt any more?”

“Just during nightmares, but they really are nightmares,” Harry assured him quickly. “It’s not like those other times, not yet.”

“Do you want to tell me about them?”

“Not right now. Most of them have to do with Cedric. You can probably guess what they’re like.”

“Can you get back to sleep afterward?” 

Harry shook his head.

“I have a lot of trouble with nightmares too,” Sirius said. “I’ve found that if talk to Remus afterward, sometimes about the nightmare, sometimes about anything except the nightmare, I can get back to sleep more easily.”

“That must be nice—having someone to talk to. When school starts again, I can talk to Ron, but I think I’ll stick to talking about anything else. I don’t want to give Ron nightmares too. But right now—” He shrugged.

“If you wanted, you could have me to talk to.” 

Harry looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

Sirius mentally berated himself. _“Come out first; invite second. Oh well, change of plans.”_ “Remus and I spoke to Professor Dumbledore, and we convinced him that you’d be safe living with the two of us. Now it’s up to you.”

“Of course I want to! Can I move in today?” Harry’s eyes were shining brightly as he grinned in excitement.

“Wait—don’t decide yet,” Sirius cautioned him. “I meant to tell you something else first. You need to know before you decide.”

Harry’s smile faltered, but his eyes were still shining brightly. “Is something wrong?”

“No—well—I guess that’s up to you. I need to talk to you about Remus and I.” Sirius watched Harry’s face carefully for any sign that he suspected. Harry’s expression was neutral as he blinked behind his glasses. _“He looks just like you, James. I hope you’re having a good laugh at my expense right now. How do I start?”_

“I love Remus.” Still neutral. “What I mean to say is, I’m _in love_ with Remus. I’m gay, Harry.” _“Bisexual, actually, but let’s not confuse the issue.”_

Harry frowned slightly, and Sirius held his breath.

“Does he love you too?”

Sirius nodded, still holding his breath.

“That’s good. It’s awful when it’s one-sided, isn’t it?”

“Horrible,” Sirius agreed. “You sound as if you’re speaking from experience. Anyone you want to talk about?”

Harry suddenly became interested in petting the cat sitting beside him. “Not really. It’s old news anyway.” When he looked at Sirius again, his brow was still wrinkled with some concern.

 _“Maybe it’ll help if I tell him how you felt, James.”_ “I don’t know what you’ve been raised to believe about homosexuality, Harry, but for what it’s worth, your parents both approved of our relationship.”

“So, this isn’t something new.”

Sirius couldn’t help but smile. It felt very new to him. The past two weeks had been like a wonderful honeymoon. “Well, it is, and it isn’t. You see, Remus and I started--” _“Keep it clean, Padfoot,”_ “--dating when we were in school, but we broke up when we were nineteen. _Completely_ my fault. We remained friends, but just friends. We just got back together two weeks ago, the day after I moved in with him. I think your parents would be really happy for us.”

Harry smiled, but his eyes were still troubled. “I’m happy for you too. You both deserve to be happy.”

“What’s bothering you, Harry? And don’t say, ‘Nothing.’ You’ve been frowning ever since I told you about Remus and me.” 

Harry’s face shifted from worry to panic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s O.K. I’m not angry. You can’t help how you feel. You don’t approve.”

“No, that’s not it. It’s just—maybe I shouldn’t move in with you right now.”

“Oh.” Sirius suddenly realized that for a teenage boy, there was a world of difference between accepting two gay men in the periphery of his life and actually living with them. Now it was Sirius’s turn to busy himself with petting one of Arabella’s cats. He didn’t want Harry to see the hurt in his eyes. “If you’re not comfortable living with us, I understand. But I hope you’ll at least come visit us, maybe for your birthday.”

“I do want to live with you, but--”

Sirius looked up again only to see that Harry was now studying the carpet. On an impulse, he dropped to his knees in front of Harry and met his gaze.

“What is it, Harry? You can tell me.” Harry still hesitated. His forehead was even more creased. “If you were your dad, I’d smack the back of your head and say, ‘Out with it, Potter.’ In fact, in about one minute, I may try that.”

Harry smiled somewhat. “I just don’t want to be in the way. You and Professor Lupin just got back together. It’s kind of like your honeymoon or something. I know you feel you have to take care of me, and it’s really nice of you to offer, but I don’t want to be in the way.”

“You won’t be in the way—unless you hog the bathroom when Remus and I want to stargaze, but that’s another story.” He enjoyed the look of confusion on Harry’s face at that cryptic comment. “I’m not inviting you to live with us because I feel obligated to, Harry. I really want you with me. I miss you. You don’t remember, but we were great pals. We used to have long talks together. They were a bit one-sided, but you were a great listener.” Harry smiled at that joke. “We can’t get back the time we lost, but I don’t want to lose any more time with you. Remus feels exactly the same way. In fact, he brought up the idea of you moving in with us before I did.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. No sooner did I move in then he put me to work helping him change the attic into a bedroom for you. He had every detail already planned. I think he’s been thinking about it ever since he found out I was innocent, hoping that you and I would both move in.”

Harry looked slightly stunned. He seemed amazed that not only did Sirius want him, but Remus did as well. 

_“Of course he’s surprised. He’s lived his entire life in a house where he wasn’t wanted,”_ Sirius realized. “Perhaps part of the problem may be that you’re still thinking of Remus as just your professor. You do have a history that goes back a bit further.” An idea struck Sirius, and he grabbed Harry’s wrist as he stood. “C’mon.” He led Harry through the house toward the back garden. “When we get outside, ask Remus what we were discussing over breakfast.” 

Just before they reached the back door, Sirius shifted into canine form. The distinctive scents of cooked cabbage and cat piss became overwhelming, but were no longer unpleasant, just _interesting_. When Harry opened the door, the garden scents were even more interesting. Padfoot resisted the urge to trot over to the most intriguing scent of all and bury his nose in his crotch. Instead, he stood beside his nervous godson.

Arabella was pointing with a trowel and giving Remus instructions, but his full attention was focused on the teenage boy beside Sirius. Remus clutched the weeds he had just pulled, waiting for Harry’s decision. The expression on his face was carefully guarded, ready to hide the pain of rejection. Sirius couldn’t help but think that this was how Remus looked whenever someone found out that he was a werewolf. 

Sirius barked sharply. Remus immediately looked at Sirius and noticed his wagging tail. Almost imperceptibly, his body relaxed in relief. He looked back at Harry.

“Pr— Remus? Um, Sirius said I should ask you what you were talking about during breakfast.”

“We talked about several things." Remus looked puzzled and shifted his gaze back to Sirius again. "Which one? Harry’s room? Arabella’s cats? Harry’s first word?”

Sirius barked again.

“My first word? What was it?”

Remus grinned happily. “Moony. James and Sirius were quite jealous, but Lily thought it was cute. Your second word was ‘Daddy.’ Have you decided if you want to live with us, Harry?”

Sirius felt Harry rub the fur between his ears. “If you’re sure you want me.”

“Of course we do,” Remus said in surprise.

“When can I move in?”

 

After Dinner

Remus leaned back against the stone wall and tried to lose himself in feeling happy. The pessimist which dwelt within his soul, _“One of my inner monsters,”_ tried to spoil the moment by reminding him that all happiness was ephemeral, but Remus wouldn’t let him win and spoil the evening. _“This moment won’t last—all the more reason to fully enjoy it now and cherish the memory later.”_

The sight before him was a familiar one. So many times he had sat beside the fire in the Gryffindor common room and watched Sirius and James sitting side by side on one of the squashy red sofas, heads bent together over some book, plotting together or laughing over a prank well executed.

Remus was not happy because the sight before him matched his memories so well; he was happy because Sirius and Harry were happy. For the first time since the night he arrived, Sirius was looking through the photo album—and this time the memories were bringing forth laughter instead of tears.

“Why do you and my dad have purple hair in this one?”

“Snape and a few other Slytherins were getting back at us for dyeing their hair pink, but the joke was on them. James and I just held our heads high and left our hair purple until it changed back. Took about three weeks to darken back to black, didn’t it, Moony?”

“Um-hmm. But Snape didn’t do it.”

Sirius looked up in surprise and saw that Remus was wearing what Lily had called, “Remus’s Mona Lisa smile.” He grinned back, shaking his head.

“Harry, I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Half of the stuff we pulled was Remus’s idea—including dyeing the Slytherins’ hair pink—and if it wasn’t his idea to start with, he probably had a hand in improving the plan. The only reason James and I, and _not_ Remus, got the reputations as practical jokers was because James and I enjoyed taking credit for our efforts, whereas Remus is content to wait over _twenty years_ to confess.”

“As long as I am confessing—I wanted to dye your hair green, so you’d really think the Slytherins did it, but Peter wouldn’t let me. He said green hair on Gryffindors was too cruel, and he’d help me do any colour but.”

Sirius’s grin disappeared the instant Peter’s name was mentioned. Remus shrugged as if to say, “Why not Peter?”

“Peter was much better at potions than I was. I needed his help so I wouldn’t accidentally poison you two.” Remus decided to shift Sirius’s attention back away from Peter. He looked at Harry. “This was before your dad fell madly in love with a green-eyed classmate of ours, otherwise he probably would have liked green hair. What else looks interesting in there, Harry?”

Harry took the hint and resumed flipping through the album.

“This is you, isn’t it?” he asked Sirius.

“Yeah. It’s the one of you petting me while you were reading on your bed, Moony. When I first learned how to transform, I often changed into a dog up in our dorm.”

“You just liked having us pet you.”

“True—especially you, Moony.”

“Liar.”

“Do you have a photo of my dad when he was a stag?” Harry asked Remus.

“Next page, I think.”

Harry turned the page slowly, as if afraid he’d frighten the deer into hiding from view if he moved too suddenly. 

Remus didn’t need to see the photograph; he knew it well. A tall, imposing stag with sharp, white antlers steps out of the forest shadows into the golden sunlight of a clearing. Every move—the sure, deliberate steps, the slight lowering of the antlers toward the camera before looking at it squarely—all tell the viewer that this is a creature of quiet, controlled strength and power. Prongs was no timid forest dweller. He was akin to Cernunnos, the stag-god worshipped by the Celts as a protector of animals. _“Harry must sense that too. After all, Prongs is his Patronus.”_

“You can see why I felt safe running free under the full moon,” Remus told Harry quietly. “There was no way your dad or Sirius would let me get past them and hurt someone.”

Harry nodded but did not take his eyes off the photograph.

“Take it,” Remus urged. “It’s yours.”

Even as Harry said, “No, it’s yours. I couldn’t,” his hand moved just slightly toward the photo.

Remus looked into Sirius’s eyes and gestured his head toward Harry. Sirius did as he had silently been told. He slipped the photo free from the corner pockets and put it in Harry’s hand.

Harry looked up in surprise, first at Sirius, and then at Remus. “You’re sure?”

“I have my own copy,” Remus said as he placed a hand over his heart, “here.”

“Thank you—Remus.”

“You’re welcome, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes looked suspiciously bright, and Remus knew that few things embarrassed an almost fifteen-year-old boy more than crying in front of adults. He decided to use the clock chiming eleven as an excuse to rescue Harry.

“It’s late, Harry. Why don’t you get ready for bed?”

Harry nodded and went into the bathroom. Sirius watched him go with a smile and then turned his smile on Remus.

“Are you going to join me on the sofa, or do I have to join you on the floor?”

“You look more comfortable,” Remus replied. As soon as Remus sat on the sofa, Sirius laid his head in Remus’s lap and dangled his long legs over the arm of the sofa. Remus began to run his fingers through Sirius’s hair, just as he knew Sirius wanted. _“Better than silk.”_

“I told you that you were good with kids,” Sirius said as he looked up at Remus with a smug smile.

“I never disagreed. I just said that I shouldn’t be anyone’s father. What about you, Sirius? Will you regret it if you never have children?”

Sirius turned his head and nuzzled Remus’s belly with his nose. “I’d regret not being with you more. Besides, I think Harry’s enough of a handful, don’t you?”

“True.”

“He’s our cub.”

Remus laughed but it turned into a choked cough almost immediately.

“Excuse me? Cub? His dad was the deer, remember? And sit up before he comes out of the bathroom. This might look a bit suspicious from the back of the sofa.”

“Oh!” Sirius immediately sat up. “I guess we shouldn’t shock him too much the first night he’s here.” He turned enough to hitch one bent leg up into Remus’s lap and to glance back at the bathroom door. Then he hurried into an explanation. “What I mean is, we’re your pack. At least, that’s how I always felt. And in every wolf pack, there’s only one pair that has cubs. All the other members of the pack take care of those cubs just as if they were their own.”

“And Harry is our pack’s cub,” Remus finished for him. Sirius nodded, his eyes searching Remus’s for approval or laughter. 

When they were younger, Remus had occasionally heard Sirius refer to themselves as a pack, but he had wondered if Sirius was just using the term or truly understanding it. Now, hearing Sirius explain their relationship to Harry in terms of pack dynamics, he knew that Sirius not only understood the pack relationship of wolves, but that Sirius understood those wolf instincts were part of Remus. _“He understands me—both of me—all of me.”_

“Would you mind if I were to say that you think like a werewolf?”

Sirius’s apprehension disappeared into a happy smile. “I’d consider it a compliment.”

The click of the opening bathroom door forestalled a very promising kiss. Sirius sat back a little farther from Remus but left his bent leg in his lap. He didn’t want Harry to feel like an intruder—so no snogging on the sofa with Remus like a hormonally-charged teenager—but he wouldn’t pretend that they weren’t physically affectionate either.

Harry hesitated near the bathroom door, sensing that he had interrupted a private moment. The hair framing his face was slightly damp, and his face was still pink from being scrubbed clean.

“Ready for bed, Harry?” Sirius asked.

Harry nodded and took a tentative step closer to the sofa and the stairs they had put in just behind it. He carried the photo of Prongs carefully, protectively.

“Just remember,” Sirius continued, “if you have a nightmare, don’t hesitate to call me or come knock on our door. I’m a light sleeper; I’ll wake up.”

“I’ll be all right,” Harry assured him. He raised his chin slightly as if trying to pull himself up as tall as possible. He walked to the base of the stairs.

“Well, _I’ll_ feel better if you wake me and talk to me. All right?”

Harry smiled gratefully at Sirius. “All right. Good night.” He shifted his gaze to Remus. “Good night, and thanks again for the photo.”

“You’re welcome.”

“And for letting me stay here.”

“No, thank _you_ for coming here. We’re glad you’re here, Harry.”

Harry smiled shyly and hurried up the stairs. Sirius watched him go with a happy smile. Remus reached out to stroke his silky black hair. Sirius closed his eyes and lay back down, enjoying the touch.

“I told you that you just like having people pet your fur, Padfoot.”

“Especially—”

“No, not especially me,” Remus said, trying to sound stern. “You got James to pet you,”— _“and Peter,”_ —“and Lily and Ivy, and those third years when we were in Hogsmeade, and Hagrid that one time, and—”

“And did Padfoot ever crawl into bed with any of them, and rub his fur up against any of them when they were nude and still smelling like the wolf they had been the night before?”

Remus smiled in spite of himself. “Since none of them ever was a wolf, I’d have to guess the answer is ‘no’.” He slipped his hand between the buttons on Sirius’s shirt and stroked the line of fine hairs down the center of Sirius’s belly. “And that part about crawling into bed and rubbing up against each other sounds intriguing. Do you mind if I don’t smell like a wolf tonight?”

“Not at all,” Sirius said as he rose from the sofa and pulled Remus after him toward the bedroom. “I’m so glad you learned how to do one way silencing charms, Moony. We can howl all we want without bothering the cub.”

 

_—Written March 2003_

 

Comments are love!


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